Wicked Heaven
by InLoveWithDraco13
Summary: Post-War. Hermione Granger has tried to put the past behind her and move on. But a month before her wedding to The Chosen One, a dark and dangerous lover remerges from the shadows to claim what is his. Hr/D with a bit of Hr/H. I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Readers,**

**So this is going to be fun and sort of dark. I recently revisited Wuthering Heights and was inspired by the tumultuous relationship between Cathy & Heathcliff. So my brain jumbled all that angst, jealousy and passionate love around and spit this story out. Yes, I already know it is _nothing_ like Wuthering Heights, merely **_**inspired**_** by. And I do plan on making this a happy ending, well at least for our favourite duo… **

**Enjoy!**

*****I in no way condone abuse or abusive relationships-I've been there myself and have spent most of my life fighting against it. This is fiction, written from the dark recesses of my mind. What happens there, I do not control.*****

**M. x**

She dreamt about him.

Again.

Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time his face _didn't _ flit through her mind whether in waking moments or in sleep. It's not as if she wanted him there. Gods no, she tried with desperation to tear him from her thoughts, from her body and most importantly her soul.

He left.

She moved on.

No regrets.

Yes, Hermione Granger was almost positive that she had not one regret. Yet, to be fair, she recently came into the habit of lying to herself—about silly, stupid and inconsequential matters. So what did she really know?

Did it matter what color the flowers were? Did she really care about one ridiculously expensive dress? Who could be bothered if her ring was twinkling moonstones or diamond fairy dust? Seating arrangements were a headache all on their own.

Hermione certainly didn't, but in regards to those around her, who _did_ care, she forced a smile and went along with the whole sham.

She really just referred to her own wedding as a sham. She didn't mean it, she loved Harry— he was her best friend, her rock. _Her second choice..._ a nasty little voice niggled in the back of her brain. She shook her head, a grim sort of feeling incasing her heavy heart.

She flipped through _The Daily Prophet _ as Ginny, Molly, Luna and Fleur twittered about her in a swarm, speaking of nothing but the upcoming nuptials. The wedding was still a month away and somehow that made it less real. If not for the constant reminder from those around her, as well as every media outlet in Britain and parts of mainland Europe, Hermione would have been able to put the whole thing from her mind and concentrate on what was important: her career.

But it seemed as if everyone had something to say about the wedding of the century—the spectacular union between The Chosen One and The Smartest Witch of her Age. Hermione rolled her eyes as she snorted down at Rita Skeeter's newest five-page article speculating on everything from Hermione's motives to Harry's troubled mind. She honestly couldn't pick up a single paper without having her privacy shoved back in her face with antagonism.

With a flick of her wand she set the paper on fire and jumped to her feet, feeling anger course through her system. If it weren't for _him_, she wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Of course not, she'd be much, _much_, worse off, her logic reminded her. He was far away, who knew where? Possibly dead… she couldn't think like that, it was painful. The thought of him suffering consumed her, yet ironically that was exactly what he'd done to her when he disappeared three years ago. He caused her so much pain she couldn't get out of bed for a week—it was as if her entire world collapsed beneath her. Hermione wallowed in her silent misery, claiming she came down with some sort of flu and ignoring all messages from her worried friends.

Speaking of…the women around her stopped their happy chatter and were now staring at Hermione with a mixture of concern and wariness. Ginny was the only one grinning.

"What did that nasty little beetle say now?"

Hermione pulled a smirk onto her face in an attempt to mask her shredded nerves as she gestured to the pile of smoking ash.

"Oh the usual, I'm a gold-digging fame seeker who stole magic from more intelligent wizards and Harry is mentally disturbed, violent and an unstable loon."

"Well that's a lot better than last week, no?" Ginny chirped, whose own face had been plastered between hers and Harrys with the bold title: SECRET LOVER? splashed across the article.

Hermione resisted the urge to glare at her. She swore some days Ginny thought Hermione was getting exactly what she deserved. There had been no hard feelings, outwardly, between the two of them. But Hermione knew deep down that Ginny definitely harbored a sort of resentment towards her. She couldn't honestly blame her. Her relationship with Harry, at first, had been strange to her as well.

"I have to stop by the office," she replied, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door.

"Right zis minute?" Fleur exclaimed dramatically.

Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes. "It's Sunday."

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly called.

"Want me to come with you?" Luna asked serenely.

"Thanks, I'm fine though. See you," and without another word she apparated from the Burrow.

She needed some time to clear her head. She just couldn't help the apprehension she felt about committing herself to someone for the rest of her life. Someone who wasn't… she stopped herself. Forcing her mind away from her insane fantasy and back to the present.

Harry and Ginny never got back together after the war. It seemed too much time passed and those months away hunting Horocruxes changed them all significantly, especially she and Harry. Ginny was also different— having her own part to play in the final battle as well as coming to grips with the death of her brother. Though maybe it was her imagination but she felt Ginny didn't want Harry and she also didn't want Hermione to have him. It seemed petty and based in useless vanity, which Hermione had no time for, along with elaborately planned weddings. She just…didn't care. She had the feeling Harry didn't either. He was just going along with the motions to appease Molly and wanted as little responsibility as possible. Maybe they should just elope… that's something _he_ would have suggested, she raged internally.

Hermione stalked through the atrium of the Ministry, ignoring all friendly greetings and stares. She was not in the mood for anymore forced social interaction. It was her day off and therefore she was going to do what _she_ wanted. And at the moment that was hiding in her office with the lights off and drinking the fire whiskey Seamus had gotten her for her birthday last year. Harry was away for the weekend in New York City with the boys and though she missed his comforting scent and strong arms around her at night, she was more than content to take advantage of her alone time.

She dropped into her chair, popped open the bottle and watched as the magical sun slowly set from the 'windows' of her office. She sighed as she closed her eyes, feeling the ache of sleeplessness there. Last night's dream had been too real. A shadow stalking her down dark deserted corridors—for hours it felt like she ran but could not escape it. She awoke in a cold sweat with the feel of his icy hands on her burning flesh—his dark and anguished voice, calling her name, still echoed in her ears. Hermione had not been able to sleep another wink. She sat up the rest of the night waiting for him to come back to her, to materialize in the darkened corner of her room.

When he didn't, she became irrationally angry, furious with herself for her insipid musings. He was gone. He left her and he wasn't coming back.

Hermione poured a generous glass of the whiskey, feeling it burn her throat as she thought back to the beginning.

She had not_ wanted_ to fall in love with Draco Malfoy.

It was anything but convenient.

But during their tumultuous years at school, something had gone awry, some glitch in the universe that was corrosive and unstoppable. After his father was sent to Azkaban and Draco became saddled with the task of killing Dumbledore, fate seemed to step in and throw her directly into his path. It began with Snape forcing her to tutor him. She remembered looking at Severus as if he were insane and lost all functions of rationale. But he'd been adamant and Malfoy had been so much worse. What started off as a miserable and impossible task became a search, a need to discover his secrets and stop him from ruining his life. Hermione didn't want to take an interest, she didn't want to care, but the intelligence he possessed would be such a complete waste if she didn't at least try to veer him off this path of self-destruction.

He became a mission, a charity case, a complication and everything in between. She tried so hard and got so little in return. Though he stopped using that awful word, and he was silent more often than aggressive as time moved forward. He spent hours just watching her with a glimmer of reluctance in his dark orbs of misery. And when she had almost given up, realizing that all her incessant nagging and prodding and lecturing was most likely useless, it was then that he appeared in her secluded corner of the library with fifteen minutes until midnight and asking—most ungraciously— for her help.

Hermione was surprised but not shocked to find he'd been forced into his situation and now he was in too deep. With no one to turn to, she'd been his first, last and only choice. How could she now deny him, when he came to her like this? So desperate but afraid to show it, so concerned with his mother's well-being and apparently the state of his slowly decaying soul.

Hermione swore at the time she only helped him because it meant the safety of those around her who she cared about. But once Dumbledore was alerted and the Death Eaters who stormed the castle were arrested, Hermione couldn't help but turn her thoughts back to the boy who almost cost them a great deal. The boy who realized everything his family stood for was corrupt and insane. She was instrumental in Malfoy coming to the right conclusion: if Voldemort won, all would be lost.

The night before she left Hogwarts, he came to her and the conversation that took place set off a series of events that would haunt her through the war and into the aftermath.

Hermione had been wandering aimlessly, already packed and too restless to sleep after the near death encounters from the week before. He found her out on the shadowy grounds, standing listlessly on the edge of the black lake.

She could still hear his low growl and feel his wary presence at her back.

"Granger."

She turned to find him, tall, dark and brooding, shadows under his magnificent stormy eyes. His perfect alabaster skin littered with bruises from their struggle with the death eaters. He was a marked man now. Wanted dead by the dark side and untrusting of the light. It seemed as if she'd become the only thing solid and reliable in the last year, and that was exactly what he told her.

And before she could contemplate the mysteries of the universe he was kissing her; hard and cold, unforgiving and punishing as if she personally brought all misfortune down upon him… but she didn't stop him. Instead, she lost herself in his hot mouth and roaming hands, she let him lift her face to his and allowed him to consume her warmth. When he finally pulled away it was with a promise. Once Voldemort was defeated, he would find her, and they would pick up where they left off.

Hermione didn't believe him. So she spent a year off in the world, trying with all of her might to forget him and focus her thoughts on helping Harry. That was rather easy to do considering how each day seemed like it might be their last. She had no idea where Draco might be. Though she suspected that Dumbledore knew... somewhere far away from the fight. Hidden. It wasn't until the final battle that she finally caught a glimpse of him. And Merlin, had he changed in a year. No longer skinny and pale with fear and self-loathing in his eyes—he took to the fight like a warrior, his toned body and flushed cheeks— knocking down old comrades, his need to prove himself valuable, wanted, needed, beyond anything she witnessed. His hate turned outward, and he projected his revenge on those who he once bowed to.

As hard as Draco Malfoy changed, it was still Harry Potter who triumphed the day and slayed the monster who stalked and destroyed their world for decades.

They were all free. Free to move on, to heal and to let go of the past.

Harry and Ron never trusted Draco, even after he switched sides and fought along side them. There had been too many Order fights about the subject in which, all throughout the year following the war, Ron and Harry refused to be in the same room as him. But Dumbledore had been strict about it up until the day he passed away peacefully. Draco was one of them and he would be treated as such.

There was no denying he was a different person, Hermione just wasn't sure who that person was anymore. She spent several weeks in Australia before returning to London and avoiding headquarters—which was where Malfoy was staying. After the loss of the Manor he moved into Regulus' old room.

It wasn't until a few months after the final battle that he found her, in the most unlikely of places: a Muggle pub on the outskirts of London.

Hermione was looking into the eyes of a stranger, having no idea what he could possibly want from her. She thought that night out by the lake faded from his memory, those months cooped up in the library turned to dust. Even though she kept her secret desire beneath her conscious mind, her heart leapt as she took him in.

After everything they'd been through, after all of those who they lost, she was sure there was nothing left to say. But apparently she was wrong.

"Did you wait for me?" he asked calmly, in a low but unsteady voice.

"What do you mean?" she tried, hearing the uneasy tremor in her tone.

"Did you _wait_ for me?" he hissed, stepping into her personal space. "Or did you move on?"

"Move on? Draco…I don't understand," she murmured, feeling rather stupid with her inability to move the conversation in another direction.

Hermione was sure about a lot of things, but her feelings for Draco Malfoy were the worst sort of mystery.

He joined her at the bar, sliding into the empty seat beside her. His hand brushed against her arm sending a shiver down her spine.

"Did you forget?" he whispered with deadly intent.

"No," she spoke quietly, feeling a hot flush rise through her body. "I didn't."

They watched one another warily, unsure of how to proceed.

"You saved my life, Granger," he insisted with a dark scowl. "I would be dead, or worse if it wasn't for you."

She swallowed hard, cleared her throat and reached for her drink.

"I wasn't sure anything I said to you during our sixth year got through. I thought I was fighting a lost cause."

He smiled grimly at that.

"Well, you were wrong."

She shrugged.

"It's bound to happen, sometimes."

"Yes."

She was hypnotized by his intense stare.

Hermione felt an awkward tension fill her body. Having him so close to her brought back the memory of his lips on her, his hands wrapped possessively around her waist.

"Why did you do it?" she asked carefully after a few moments, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Because I wanted to," he stated with no remorse or regret.

"And now?" she questioned.

"I still want to."

She finally lifted her gaze to see a dark torture lingering in his eyes. How was this possible?

"Why?" she bit out, feeling her defenses lock into place. "How?"

He reached over and threw back her whiskey. She watched as his muscles moved, sleek and lethal beneath his black shirt.

"You were the only one to see me as something more than what I was programmed to do. You showed me that blood meant nothing when it came to intelligence and courage. You opened yourself up to me, no matter how despicable I was, you saw something that no one has bothered to look for."

"I merely gave you the facts, you came to those conclusions all by yourself."

"Only because you forced me to open my eyes."

"I'm very happy to hear that. Honestly."

"And now?" he prompted, an unmistakable edge to his voice.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes with annoyance before moving closer to her. He smelled like fresh pine and smoke. It made Hermione's senses swim in lust as she eyed his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. He still made her feel as if danger was in his very heart.

"I was sure Potter and you…being gone all those months…together," he hissed, a darkness coming into his gaze.

Hermione felt her face burn at his insinuation.

"No," she confirmed. "It wasn't like that."

She swore she saw relief flash across his features, but it was gone as soon as it came. She was once again staring into his ominous and intense eyes.

"I want you Granger," he demanded as his fingers reached out to caress her own. "I want you so badly I swear it's the only thing that's kept me going."

"Draco, I-"

"Just let me show you," he demanded with silky seduction. "Let me give you exactly what you need." His heated stare, the loss and pain she could still see in his damaged soul, along with the whiskey she drunk, were all contributing factors to what happened next.

She left the pub and spent the night in Draco Malfoy's arms.

He tortured her with his passion, teased her beyond comprehension, before bringing her the greatest pleasure she ever experience in her life. Their connection was fire, it was ice, it was everything in between and as he buried himself deep inside of her, she knew this was what she wanted for a very long time—longer than she cared to admit. His body on hers, his voice whispering words of longing and seduction, his scent, his scars, all of it infused into her and she lost herself in a world she hadn't known existed.

Draco Malfoy was her first and he made her a promise that night—that he would be her last.

The secret involvement moved forward, too new and too raw to be exposed to all of those who would be more than willing to tear them apart. It was hard with him living at headquarters where Harry or Ron could pop in at anytime—so they spent most of their hours together at her flat. It was a year of rebuilding, a time for them to heal before moving into the work force and on with their lives. Hermione thought the leisure might kill her, so the time she didn't spend with Draco she spent planning her career move while Malfoy continued Auror training—he lost all his wealth after the imprisonment of his father and the liquidation of the Malfoy family assets, but in the end that really didn't seem to phase him. It was almost a relief, a release from his past.

Months passed as their physical connection moved into a deeper place. His intelligence fueled her, his sharp wit amused her and their mental chemistry blew her mind. They started spending time together that didn't involve nudity or orgasms. Instead, she began to see the depth of Draco Malfoy— his dreams, wishes, fears, desires-the path that he was pursuing. A path, he told her several months later, that would lend credence to his name and their relationship.

Relationship? Hermione was loathed to entertain the word. She had purposely been keeping her heart at a distance, letting the physical pleasure consume her so she could ignore the rest. But as the year slid by, she realized more and more that Draco Malfoy was becoming _her_ person. The one she could confide in, the man who had her back, the one who would defend her and fight for her. He went above and beyond to prove that his intentions were inescapably true. He even went as far as introducing her to his mother. She knew once they'd gotten there, she would have to make some adjustments.

He never asked her about the time she spent with the Weasley's and Harry and her other friends, he never asked to be invited. But he would turn sulky and miserable and usually drink himself into a stupor. That was when they would fight. And she loved it. But she hated it too. It was exciting and dangerous when he provoked her and it always ended in hot sex. But the things he would say, the darkness that was so ingrained in him sometimes gave her pause. She would see a flash of Lucius in his eyes and it would make her snap.

Hermione knew she was running out of a time and sooner or later, with Draco's resentment building, she would have to come clean to her friends. And she dreaded it. As much as Draco proved himself during the final year of the war, there was no way in hell that Harry and Ron were going to be the least bit okay with the situation. Though Malfoy changed in a plethora of ways, he hadn't lost his volatile temper or the spoilt tendencies of an only child.

Hermione remembered their last night together as if it was only hours ago...

"Just admit it, you're ashamed of me," he snapped when she turned up at Grimmauld place after spending the rainy afternoon with the boys.

She found him disheveled and pacing, a bottle of fire whiskey clenched in his bruised fist.

"I'm not, it's just complicated."

"Try me," he snarled.

Hermione knew from the moment it began that this would be a losing battle. He lived for chaos and his insecurities did nothing to soften his words.

"They won't understand. They'll think I've gone mad," she tried to explain.

"You? Mad? What an excuse, Granger. That's all you're full of, excuses and lies."

"What would you have me say? I've been shagging your sworn enemy for the last year?" she snapped, irritated by his goading.

He let out a shout of laughter without a trace of humor.

"Shagging. Your. Enemy. So that's how you see me."

"Of course I don't! But you've never made the slightest effort to apologize to them or get to know them."

"Apologize!? Get to know them? Maybe you are mad. I can't stand them. The sight of Scar Head and his redheaded bitch disgust me. I will never apologize to them," he snarled with rage.

"Then how do you expect to be with me?" she cried, throwing her hands up in disbelief.

"I am with you." His temper was very close to exploding. She didn't like the dangerous look in his eyes.

"Draco."

"Look Granger, you either tell them what's going on, or…" he stopped, watching her face carefully.

"Are you threatening me?" she asked with astounding shock.

"Tell them or I will."

"You wouldn't."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he scowled, heading for the door.

She threw herself against the frame, blocking his way.

"It's not your place to interfere with my friends!"

"Everything that has to do with you is my business Granger, don't you dare fucking forget it," he promised with murder in his voice.

"This is ridiculous, Draco! Why does it matter? Why do they have to know right now? It's not like we're getting married…" she trailed off as he closed in on her, his hands shaking with emotion. He slammed them into the wall on either side of her head, watching as she barely flinched.

"You impossible _witch,_ I am in love with you!"

She felt her heart ache at his raw confession, the need and fear palpable in his eyes.

"If that was true then you wouldn't be putting me in this unbearable situation!" she shot back, her anger outweighing her empathy.

"I don't care about anyone else. You're the only thing, the only one that matters and I won't have Potter and Weasel thinking that you belong to them."

"I don't belong to anyone!"

She heard the jealous growl in the back of his throat as he grabbed her arms.

"You're mine. Now and forever."

"Draco-"

"-Say it!" he shouted, his gaze filled with a desperation she'd not seen before.

"I stopped by to tell you I'm going to be working all weekend."

He laughed at her in disbelief.

"Don't you care about me at all? Or is it only _the boys_," he mocked nastily, "who deserve your affections?"

"You're a child Draco Malfoy, and until you grow up and think about someone other than yourself, that's what you will remain."

He turned away, slamming his hand through the wall several times as Hermione watched on with growing trepidation.

"I can't do this Draco," she whispered, "I can't live like this anymore," she gasped, feeling tears grace her eyes. If only he would make an effort with Harry, then slowly but surely, they could make it work. But until then, she couldn't continue this argument.

"So this is it. I knew it was only a matter of time before you chose them over me."

"How can you say that when I've risked everything for you?"

"What have you risked, my perfect little princess?" he sneered with contempt.

"My reputation, my friends, my very existence! If you think the last year has been easy, you're delusional."

"I never said it was easy but it was what we both wanted so don't you dare try to pin this on me."

"I'm not, I'm just saying it's time to grow up. It's time to be a better man, a man that I could be proud to be with, a man who can let go of the past, of his demons and forget about this useless revenge between yourself and Harry. Make it right."

"I can't forget. He tried to take everything from me, even after I saw the 'light', it was never enough, even after the war, he still sees me as a snake, a coward."

"You are neither of those things. I know that, Draco. But if we are going to do this, if you are really in it—I need you to make an effort, for me."

"And I need you to admit the truth. You're ashamed of me."

"At the moment, yes I am."

"I see. So I'm not good enough. I never was, huh? Was this just a passing amusement for you, a way to fill the void? Or perhaps I was one of your many pet projects."

"You sound insane, you know that, right?"

"Fuck you, Granger. Why don't you run back to your savior and fill his ears with more lies about where you go every time you're 'working late.' Why don't you admit that you're in _my _bed, screaming _my_ name, begging _me _for more. _Your sworn enemy_."

"I never said-"

"-That's what I am, what I'll always be to you. Get the hell out of my sight," he turned away from her in dismissal.

"If that's what you want Draco," she tried calmly, not wishing to fuel him any further. He'd apologize in the morning when he was sober. The vicious look he shot her over his shoulder turned her blood to ice.

He was once again a stranger.

"It's Malfoy to you. Now GO! You disgust me."

That was the last time she saw the snarling face, the broken soul and tortured eyes of Draco Malfoy. He disappeared without a trace and Hermione was left to pick up the pieces of her torn heart.

She returned her thoughts to the present as she continued to stare out at the now dark sky, the bottle of whiskey almost half gone.

Three years passed, and still she could not forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! So glad you are enjoying. Thank you to my lovely reviewers: nshaikh281,AmethystRoseMalfoy, LibraOfSlytherin (love this handle, I'm one myself ;)) & guests! You guys are great!**

**Here's the next bit ...**

**M. x**

Hermione awoke to her name being called.

It took her a few moments to realize where she was, and when she did, she came fully alive with a start. She'd fallen asleep at her desk.

She looked up to see her secretary, Vicky, staring at her with wary concern.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She wiped the sleep out of her eyes, realizing that two buttons had come undone on her blouse. She hurriedly fixed them as she swiped the empty whiskey bottle off her desk and gratefully accepted the steaming hot cup of coffee.

"What time is it?"

"Just after seven…I came in early to tidy up before your big meeting…"

Hermione blanked.

"It's…Monday?"

Vicky inspected Hermione's features with worry.

"Yes…did you…sleep here?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped, getting to her feet and feeling particularly ridiculous in her jeans and button down. "I…shit. Yes. I did. Can you please find me some appropriate clothes?"

Vicky nodded once and turned to leave just as Hermione looked down at a thick, cream envelope, that was stuck beneath her empty glass.

There was nothing written on it.

"Vicky? Is this from you?" she asked, waving the crisp paper in her hand. No mail ever came to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures this early.

Vicky frowned with confusion and then shook her head.

"It was there when I came in." She left.

Hermione sat back down, feeling her head throb as she inhaled a large sip of coffee. She turned the envelope over in her hands, carefully breaking the seal. Hermione unfolded the single piece of paper and lifted it to her gaze,

_**You have betrayed me.**_

She dropped the letter as if it scalded her fingers. With a gasp, she stared down at it in horror, her heart beating much too fast. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his script. She knew it too well after those months and months of studying together, then practically living together.

He was alive.

He was back.

How? Why? Where did he go?

A thousand questions raced through her mind, each making her angrier than the next. How dare he. _Betrayed him?_ He was the one who left her.

Hermione snatched the note up and flipped it over—there was nothing. Her brain filled with anxiety at the thought of him coming in here while she was sleeping and leaving this. She instinctually pressed her hand against her chest, fingering the buttons of her blouse.

She had to find him.

Hermione jumped to her feet just as Vicky returned with her business attire. Hermione practically barreled her way through the door, the letter still clutched tightly in her shaking hand.

"Where are you-?"

"-Cancel my day. Something's come up. It's an emergency."

Before Vicky could respond, Hermione was out the door and racing down the corridors, shoving people out of her way. She slammed her fingers against the lift's button, desperate to find some answers. She'd go straight to Grimmauld Place.

But her plan was derailed as soon as the lift clanged open and her fiancé stepped out with a warm smile plastered across his face.

"Hermione!" he cried, embracing her in his arms and burying his face into her neck. "Mmm, I missed you," Harry pulled back to look in her eyes. All warmth and delight immediately left his gaze as he cupped her cheek, looking at her with sudden urgency. "What's wrong? Why do you look as if you've seen a ghost?"

"A ghost?" she repeated numbly, searching his eyes.

"Hermione? What is it?" he asked seriously, gripping her arm.

She crushed the letter deeper into her back pocket as she forced a smile onto her face before entwining their hands.

"Sorry, I just got some weird news," she shook her head as he opened his mouth. "Nothing important, just a work thing." She leaned in and kissed him gently.

"You sure?" he insisted, squeezing her fingers between his.

She nodded with a smile.

"Why are you in jeans?" he asked with a grin, looking her up and down. Before Hermione could reply she saw a deep frown crease his forehead. "And where is your ring?"

"My ring?" she repeated as she looked down at her bare fingers. Her engagement ring was gone. That foul snake must have slithered it right off—she was going to find him and blast him into the next century. What the hell was she supposed to tell Harry?

She was saved in that moment by the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Good Morning, Ms. Granger. Harry, nice to see you back."

They shook hands and she noticed Harry's smile did not reach his eyes. She hid her hands in her pockets guiltily as the Minister of Magic turned to her.

"Might I have a word with you in private, Miss Granger? A work matter." Something in his eyes made her stomach do a flip, but she nodded all the same.

She followed Kingsley back into her office after murmuring to her future husband that they would catch up later.

She shut the door behind them and motioned for the Minister to take a seat.

"How can I help you?"

Kingsley stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She was unnerved by his silence, his attempt to read her features before he jumped with his attack. Hermione steeled herself for the worst-case scenario. He was going to fire her.

"Have you had any contact in the last twenty-four hours with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione was wrong. This was the worst-case scenario. Malfoy was infiltrating her life in a surreal way—just as he'd done before.

"I'm sorry?" she tried in her most professional tone, feeling the floor shift beneath her feet. She sat down quickly. "I haven't seen Malfoy in three years, same as anyone else, I would imagine."

The Minister looked sheepish, almost embarrassed, as he folded his hands and sat forward.

"I understand this is a_ delicate_ matter for you, Hermione," he began in his deep, smooth voice. "But if he's alive, I need to know."

"Why wouldn't he be?" she countered, cringing at the way he said 'delicate.'

Kingsley paused, giving her a look of sympathy.

"I am…aware of your history."

Hermione could think of nothing to say, so she just stared.

"He came to me three years ago on a rainy night with a request. He asked me for a particular mission. One that he did not want shared with even those…closest to him," he watched her for a moment before continuing on. "He left with the intention of returning within the year."

"Were you the only one who knew about this?" she whispered, referring not only to Malfoy's mission but to whatever he'd told the Minister about their relationship.

"I was." He purposely avoided her eyes.

Hermione scoured the newspapers for weeks after his disappearance and found nothing. Clearly the Minister covered it up.

"What happened to him?" she burst out, unable to control her whiplashing emotions.

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not certain. I sent some people looking, but they came back empty handed. I…assumed the worst."

"What about his mother? I'm shocked she didn't cause a stir."

"After his disappearance—loss of contact, I should say—she became very ill. She's in Saint Mungo's, they say she won't last the year."

Hermione felt her heart drop in anguish.

"So why are you asking me about him now? What's changed?" she insisted, feeling dread incase her.

"I received the head of Bellatrix Lastrange on my desk this morning," he stated simply.

Hermione felt her jaw drop.

Bellatrix had been one of the few who escaped after the final battle. The one who nearly tortured her to death. When Hermione thought about regrets, that was what came to mind. She wished more than anything that the death of Bellatrix would bring her peace of mind. Draco was aware of the nightmares that came back to her and the fear she sometimes felt that the witch would return to finish what she started.

"He was after his aunt?" she asked quietly, trying to banish the shock coursing through her every feature.

Kingsley nodded.

"So…he's alive. And he's here," she added to herself for confirmation.

"Which brings me back to the question at hand. Has he contacted you?"

"No." Hermione felt the lie slip easily through her lips.

"Hermione…if he has reached out to you I need to know," Kingsley frowned.

"Why do you presume he would reach out to me? After all this time..." she added more to herself.

"You were the last person to have contact with him before he left."

Hermione thought back to the stormy night she'd torn from Grimmauld Place, furious with his cold dismissal.

"How do you know that?"

But Kingsley was already getting to his feet and shaking his head. "If you hear from him, please let me know immediately. He needs to be de-briefed and I want to make sure his mental health…" he stopped as her eyes snapped to his with overwhelming fear. "Hasn't been compromised."

Hermione's mind raced to the many things that could happen to an Auror on a mission. Especially one where said Auror was Draco Malfoy and he was on a revenge mission to destroy his mother's wicked sister. Apparently he succeeded. Hermione simultaneously felt terror and relief race through her system. He'd most likely been tortured, beaten and imprisoned if Bellatrix was able to sink her claws into him. She couldn't help the small gasp that erupted from her lips as her head spun in a sickening way.

"Kingsley," she whispered softly.

The Minister stared at her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"You'll keep me informed?"

He nodded once and took his leave. As soon as the door shut behind him, Hermione hit it with a silencing spell.

She let out the breath she'd been holding then threw her head into her hands and sobbed.

He was alive. He was back. But who was he?

Hermione had to know.

She couldn't come apart like this. She couldn't allow herself to feel more for him than she already did. Her hate and love for Draco Malfoy was the most precarious of balancing acts. She wanted to scream in his face and hit him, she wanted to tear his clothes off and press her skin up against his, to breathe in his scent and remember that he was real.

He had been hers.

She wiped at her eyes, refusing to get pulled back into the past. Instead, she righted herself. Trying not to imagine the smirk of satisfaction he must have felt at seeing her drunkenly passed out in Muggle clothes in her office, Hermione got to her feet and went in search of her demon.

* * *

By nine that evening she was not only exhausted but absolutely furious. Hermione spent her day searching everywhere for her lost lover. She turned off her cell phone, making it impossible for anyone to reach her and then went hunting through the entire city, visiting every place that she thought he might haunt. She visited parks and museums—she tried Grimmauld Place and every bar in Wizarding London. She even tried the hospital, surely he would be visiting with his mother.

But alas, her findings turned up nil and so she returned home to her flat.

Hermione spent only a couple nights of the week at Harry's— they would be living together soon enough. Harry never pushed her, not like Malfoy. He was completely fine with giving her space. He knew her so well and never tried to tame her independent spirit.

Malfoy all but crushed her. Dark thoughts came to her head as a flash of his muscled flesh on top of her, filling her with passion, with black flames of desire. She shook her head as she jogged up to the entrance of her two-story townhouse. She carefully looked around before opening the doors. It was dark and silent.

"Crooks?" she called, flicking on the lights. Bushy tailed and disgruntled, her loveable cat came prowling into the foyer licking his lips and looking thoroughly satisfied. "What have you gotten into naughty boy?" she chastised, kicking off her boots and leaning down to pet him.

She gasped. There, around his collar was a ring, tied with a silk green bow. But it wasn't hers. It was similar, but much bigger.

"What the-?" she jumped to her feet, suddenly feeling as if he were right there, just behind her. She spun around, there was no one. She lifted her wand and began to make her way carefully into the shadow swept hall.

Crookskanks suddenly let out a furious hiss, his eyes narrowing into the darkness she could not see past.

A frantic knocking broke Hermione's tension as she let out a scream and turned back towards the front entrance, her wand exploding with magic and shattering the glass panes of the doors. She staggered backwards from the force as Harry's yell rent the air.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" she breathed, flying to the entrance.

She tore open the doors. Harry stood up, his hair standing on end, blood oozing from a slice in his cheek. Hermione rushed into his arms.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I'm so sorry."

"Hermione, it's okay calm down. Are you alright?" he asked, lifting her face in his hands.

"I'm fine," she whispered, her eyes wide as she reached up to wipe the tear drop of blood falling from the wound. Her hands were shaking.

"What happened?" he asked, looking around at the broken glass.

"My magic. It…exploded." Hermione was already racking her brain, rationalizing what would cause such a powerful wave of energy. Emotions. Emotional duress. Yes, at the moment she felt very close to snapping.

"I feel like I've asked you this a thousand times today, but is everything okay?"

"I've not been sleeping well," she murmured. "That happens sometimes when you're away," she added and turned to repair the door.

"Here, let me do that." Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Hermione started to protest just as his fingers clasped around the ring still clutched in her wand hand.

Before she could open her mouth with some sort of baffling excuse, Harry looked up at her in surprise, his whole face lighting up.

"Your ring!" he laughed, taking it carefully from her and fitting it onto her finger with a lingering touch. "I thought maybe you didn't like it," he whispered with a blush.

Hermione snatched her hand back, clutching the ring a bit too desperately in concealment.

"I love it," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him and cover her anxiety. "Come in," she offered leading him into the house.

* * *

"What's up?" he asked as they dropped down onto her sofa with a cup of tea. She looked at him inquisitively.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you disappeared from work and I couldn't get ahold of you. I was worried something happened."

"I just had a few things to take care of."

Harry nodded, looking at her with mounting concern but he let it go as she curled up into his arms.

"What did Kingsley want?" he asked quietly after a few moments.

Hermione felt her pulse skip. She hated lying to Harry. It was her least favorite pastime so she would tell him what she could.

"Bellatrix Lastrange is dead."

Harry pulled back at her words and looked down at her in wonder.

"What? How? Were you going to mention this?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Her head was delivered to the Ministry this morning."

"Bloody hell, Hermione. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Of course, it was a shock...but a relief."

"Wow. Does he know who killed her?"

"He has his theories," she replied, wishing desperately for this conversation to be over.

Harry seemed to read her mind as he once again gathered her into his arms, a little tighter than normal.

"Well it doesn't matter now, right? She's gone."

Hermione nodded, feeling tears crest her eyes. One monster was dead and another had returned. Was he here to destroy her? What did he want?

"I'm exhausted," she muttered, closing her eyes and wishing the world would disappear.

Harry helped her carefully to her feet.

"Let's go to bed," he insisted."You're safe."

Hermione pressed herself into his comfort, knowing that the term safe was relative. She wondered briefly if Harry himself was safe. Especially since she knew what Malfoy was capable of.

Harry slowly removed her clothes, kissing her body and extinguishing reality from her mind. They made love before falling asleep in each other's arms.

And although Hermione felt as if she would never sleep again, the exhaustion from the stressful day took hold and the last image she saw before falling into the abyss was a pair of dark, accusatory eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**SlyTwiHunter- Thank you for your lovely review! It absolutely made my morning :) I got to editing right away as a result. And guests! Thank you thank you! Wish I could thank you personally!**

**Enjoy darlings!**

**M. x**

Morning dawned and Hermione awoke feeling as if she were run over by the Knight bus.

Harry was already gone and in a way she was relieved. In the light of day, surely he would notice the ring he put on her finger last night was not the same he proposed with.

She stared at the diamond as she lay there, thinking back to the start of her romantic relationship with the Chosen One.

They hadn't planned for it to happen. She blamed it entirely on Won Won and Lav Lav's engagement party.

Ginny was away at Quidditch boot camp making the situation a lot less awkward for Harry— the stars were out, the champagne was flowing and with Ron entertained with his fiancée and their guests, Harry and Hermione spent most of the night alone. They danced, they drank, and they laughed until there were tears streaming from their eyes.

She remembered sitting on the roof of the Burrow, a bottle of bubbly between the two of them as the party wound down. The soft music was still floating amongst them like a beating heart. Hermione had long lost her shoes and Harry his jacket. As their conversation lulled, Hermione realized she hadn't felt so happy in ages, not since _he_ left. It was a sobering thought, and in that moment she turned to Harry, her best friend, the man she trusted more than anyone, ready to spill her guts and confess all about her destructive relationship with Malfoy.

But when she opened her mouth to speak, he was kissing her. Kissing her like his life depended on it. And she knew in that moment she had a choice. She could hold onto the past, like she accused Malfoy of doing, or she could give her heart to someone worthy, someone kind, and caring, who would love her as hard as he could. And that would be enough.

She promised herself it would.

Now as she lay in her bed, staring at the intruding ring and contemplating the depths that Draco Malfoy would go to unhinge her, she realized she would have to be strong. She would not let him back in. She would not let him take the happiness that she fought so hard for. Not when he was the one to desert her.

But a small voice in the back of her head once again roared to life—_he left to prove himself, he wasn't leaving you—he knew how much Bellatrix stayed with you. He did it for you. And what about you? You just gave up, you were too ashamed to even be seen with him. Always a Death Eater… _

"No," she whispered, horrified by the direction of her thoughts.

Hermione shoved the darkness down and rose from her bed determinedly. She would put him from her mind. She would not go looking for trouble. And the harder he pushed, the more she would come to realize what a massive mistake getting involved with him had been.

And Harry, she would have to tell him the truth if this kept up. He was the man she committed to spending the rest of her life with. She could not go into this union with secrets between them, no matter how damning her indescrepancies might be.

* * *

Two weeks flew by and in that time, Hermione received no news.

She was praying to all of the Gods that he'd given up his little game and would let her move on her with her life— her engagement ring was still missing but thankfully Harry didn't mention it again. His obliviousness did little to comfort her. She felt as if she were constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for the moment Malfoy would appear. And Hermione was positive that was exactly what he wanted. Mind games were always a Slytherin specialty.

She was on edge, barely sleeping and with the upcoming wedding looming ever closer Hermione became frantic, as if locked in a cage. She clung to her logic and rationale like a plank of wood amongst a violent shipwreck. Her cold lifeless fingers would fall off before she let go of her sanity.

He wouldn't break her.

It was with relief that she packed up her bag early on Friday afternoon-she was planning on spending the entire weekend alone in her library.

She wasn't even through the atrium when she heard someone call her name. She turned, instinctively gripping her wand.

It was Luna.

"Hermione," she said in greeting as she jogged up to her. "Were you about to hex me?" she asked with wide eyes, looking down at Hermione's hand. "Is that a new engagement ring?"

"Luna! Sorry, I'm running out- I have an appointment, what's up?"

"Of course you do! Mine is a little after five. I can't wait for tonight! I just wanted to find out what time you and Harry were getting there," she finished with an expectant look.

Hermione shook her head.

"Sorry, getting where?"

"The Ministry's Annual Masquerade Ball," Luna prompted helpfully. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"I don't know Luna, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for a ball," she replied as she began moving towards the floo network, Luna trailing behind.

"Oh you must come! Kingsley is going to be making a big announcement."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

She'd been popping into the Minister's office quite often since the day after she found out Malfoy was back. Each and every time, Kingsley's secretary informed her he would relay her message.

But she heard nothing. Absolute silence from him.

"What kind of announcement?" she questioned with a frown.

"Many have suspected him of being a werewolf for quite sometime-" Luna began with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

"-Yes, I'm sure that's it," Hermione agreed, resuming her determined strides to get out of there.

"So I'll see you tonight?"

Hermione turned back with a grim smile just before stepping in the floo.

"You can count on it."

* * *

She sent a quick note to Harry letting him know they would be attending and to pick her up at eight.

She spent two minutes finding an appropriate dress and another ten magically enhancing two old Commedia dell'arte masks her mother gave her— Columbine for herself and Pierrot for Harry.

She spent the rest of the afternoon showering, attempting to paint her nails and contemplating why Kingsley had been steadily ignoring her.

She was torn between fear and excitement, knowing that sooner or later she was going to have to face her past.

Hermione finished applying some light makeup, choosing to leave her natural curls loose, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She donned a gown of red lace to boast her Gryffindor pride. She considered wearing gloves as to cover the ring but knew how ridiculous that would seem and decided to opt out. The mask was her final touch—gold with glittering red stones, covering only her eyes. With one nod of confidence in the mirror she descended the stairs.

Harry was early—standing in his fine black tux with a crisp white shirt, in his hand the mask Hermione transfigured and laid out for him.

The look he gave her was one of utter awe and devotion.

"Wow," he breathed as he took her in, his green eyes glimmering with pride. "My good luck astounds me more every day."

She smiled, genuinely, feeling as if they were once again sixteen.

You don't look half bad yourself, Potter," she teased as she moved forward to kiss him.

"I might have to fight off the men with a stick tonight."

She laughed. "That's what my wand is for, _darling_" she teased as she pulled up the side of her dress to reveal her wand tucked into a sexy lace garter.

Harry gulped, feeling the blood rush through his veins.

"Do not tempt me, or we won't make it out of this room," he murmured, offering her hand a kiss and guiding her towards the floo.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of a massive fireplace and into a blur of colors and candlelight.

She looked around in awe, never having been to a party at this specific residence. She wondered who it belonged to as Harry led her through a magnificent front hall with winding staircases and marble columns, past dark paneled wood and ivory pianos— a library that looked as if it held 50,000 books and into the most spectacular ballroom she'd ever seen. It was two stories and filled with magnificently dressed witches and wizards all mingling, laughing and dancing as thousands of candles floated above them.

Across the room, the entire back wall was made of glass-the heavy curtains were thrown back to reveal a massive balcony which looked out over the sea. So they were somewhere on the coast.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as she squeezed Harry's arm.

"Who lives here?" she questioned with wonder, feeling as if she were in a dream.

This was exactly the kind of home she imagined being able to afford one day. A pipe dream—but damn was it beautiful.

"The guest of honour, of course," a voice responded from behind them.

"Kingsley!" Hermione nearly shouted. Harry looked at her in alarm. "Hello," she recovered and lowered her voice, realizing everyone within a ten-foot radius halted their conversations.

"Good evening," he murmured.

"You're looking great-" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Guest of honour? What are we honouring?" she asked a bit impatiently.

Kingsley raised his eyebrow with curiosity before lifting two glasses of champagne into their hands and raising his own. "To safe returns."

They drank, Hermione a bit reluctantly. She could deduce what that meant.

"Wanna dance?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Actually, I have to have a word with the Minister," Harry and Kingsley both began to protest but she held up a hand. "It will be naught but a minute," she insisted as she left Harry to his own devices and all but dragged the Minister of Magic from the room.

She hurried them down the hallway and into the library she spied on the way in. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped back against the frame and glared at him as she ripped off her mask.

"What is going _on_?"

Kingsley merely smiled. Hermione resisted the urge to stamp her foot.

"What speech are you making? Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Hermione-"

"-I'm going half mad, I need to know what's happened!" she protested, as she drew closer to him with a pleading look. "I need to _know_."

"I came to you because I thought you might have information. If you don't, then this matter is considered confidential where you are concerned," he replied quietly.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. But you must understand the position I'm in, I can't get involved with this. I can't twist myself back into this nightmare," she cried desperately, willing him to recognize her plight. "But I need to know if he's okay," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

"Hermione, there are very serious matters to consider right now. Things did not fall in place, as I suspected. I am not laying blame on you, I am not judging you, but know that there is much more to this whole situation than meets the eye. Things are not yet clear to me and I would hate to give you false truths. My choices are limited. Please understand."

Hermione felt the anger release from her soul as a weary, stabbing sensation replaced it. She was afraid. Very afraid. And she couldn't logically sort any of it out. It was all unknown. She felt the ring burn against her skin, she wanted nothing more than to rip it off and throw it into the flames of the roaring fire.

"Where are we?"

"I have to get back to the ball, I'll be making my speech in ten minutes. Come to my office Monday morning with the truth and I will see what I can do."

She nodded gratefully and moved aside, allowing the Minister to pass. He turned back to see if she was following him.

"I just need a minute," she said quietly, gesturing to her mask. He nodded once and was gone.

Hermione took a deep breath and began to move along the shelves, inspecting the books as she tried to ease her mind away from her tumultuous thoughts.

She shouldn't have come here tonight.

At the far end of the room she spotted a polished desk set in front of the massive windows. Outside was a cliff that dropped off into the crashing waves. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she moved closer, not daring for it to be possible.

She stopped a few inches from the desk and looked down.

Two copies of Hogwarts a History were laying there, the first edition…and the most recent..._the last_. Hermione felt tears silently spill down her face as she ran her fingers over an assortment of both quills and pens. And there, just beneath her fingertips lay a folded letter. She didn't think she could open it. She could not possibly imagine what it would say. She reached for it carefully...

_**Mine**_

Hermione wiped furiously at her tears as the word sunk into her mind.

She ripped the paper in two, suddenly more irate than she could possibly stand. Of course, his, always his. Property, belongings, all _his, his, his._ As if he thought he could buy her. As if she were one more object he could acquire. Charm her into a house that was very similar to the one she briefly described to him when he asked her where she wanted to grow old. The manipulative bastard, no wonder he'd been silent for two weeks, he was too busy setting up traps for her to fall into over and over again.

The message was clear, she was his or she was his enemy. Either way, he was letting her know she belonged to _him._

She left the books where they were, but she took the pens. How dare he lay claim on anything Muggle. She'd snap them all in half before she let him put his hypocritical hands all over them. He absolutely abhorred pens.

She stormed back into the ballroom just as Kingsley was beginning his speech.

She found Harry without trouble, at the center of the room, Ron and Lavender by his side. She greeted them both quickly in a hushed breath before turning her attention to the Minister.

"Good Evening and thank you all for joining me. Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the change in location. Unexpected, but I assure you joyous news is connected with this last minute alteration."

A murmur of interest rippled throughout the crowd and Hermione felt her stomach clench.

"I am happy to announce, with great relief and gratitude, that Bellatrix Lestrange as been eliminated. The last of Voldemort's followers, who eluded capture, are finally dead."

A resounding cheer went up as Hermione never heard before. It was as if they were all back at Hogwarts and Voldemort's body had just hit the ground.

The ballroom exploded with mirth and clapping and whooping. Harry turned to Hermione, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her in for a deep kiss. She reciprocated, allowing herself a moment of happiness before the fall out. She knew it was coming.

The crowd finally died down and once again, waited with baited breath for Kingsley to continue.

"The man who is responsible for this heroic action spent three years away from our world, hunting Voldemort's most loyal follower. He was captured, tortured, escaped and made his way back to us. His generous contribution to our society goes even further, as he offered to welcome us into his new home where we may celebrate this news together."

Whispers broke out all over the hall, masked faces turning every which way to get a glimpse of whom it could be. Hermione chanced a glance at Harry, he was frowning and Ron was on his other side whispering rapidly into his ear.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Draco Malfoy."

Hermione closed her eyes as gasps and shocked cries ripped through the hall. There was a moment of silence and the ballroom once again exploded with applause—thundering, absolutely mad.

Hermione felt Harry's whole body tense beside her, but she couldn't look up.

It felt as if the noise went on for minutes and then…

"Thank you," a deep but amused voice filled the room. "And welcome to Wuthering Heights."

Hermione felt rage fill her every pore. She snapped her neck up and looked into the devilishly handsome face of Draco Malfoy. He was staring right at her.

It took her last bit of will not to scream, not to rip off her shoes and hurdle them at his face. Her favourite book, one she read in his company more than once. He claimed he skimmed through it and that was enough for him to make it into a debate. It was one of the many books they discussed thoroughly. He loved nothing more than to blame Cathy for it all and mock her indecisiveness. He said it was the most unlikely and overdramatic of stories. Hermione would vehemently disagree, sighting paragraphs and quoting from memory to prove Heathcliff was the real villain, until he would push her down onto the couch and pleasure her with his mouth for hours.

He loved making her forget everything but his name, he told her so more than once.

It was most unfortunate that Harry also happened to know this was her favourite novel. He turned to look at her with shocked eyes, but Hermione could not pull her gaze away from the intense and damning stare of Draco Malfoy. He cleared his throat, a smirk lurking at his lips as he turned back to his audience.

"It is my honour to host you this evening. Please enjoy yourselves," he finished with a crisp tone as the guests fell in love with him all over again.

He turned to Kingsley to speak into his ear. The Minister frowned but nodded as Draco Malfoy made his way forward— donning his mask as he disappeared into the crowd of admirers and gossipers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to my reviewers (rabradley09, AmethystRoseMafloy, sayianhund, SlyTwiHunter & Guests)! You all make me smile, hopefully any questions will be answered as we continue down this twisted path...which is becoming more twisted by the second. Happy endings are not easily won. ; )**

**M. x**

Noise and music once again filled the ballroom.

Hermione turned to look at Harry. His lips were set in a grim line, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled her to his side and faced Ron.

"Well," Ron began gravely with a snarl lifting onto his features. "Look who's back. "

"I thought he was dead," Lavender complained, tugging at Ron's arm. "Can you believe it?"

"I sure as hell can," Harry interjected darkly. "He's a snake, very good at slithering."

Ron nodded sharply in agreement.

"That bastard doesn't do anything unless it's to benefit himself."

"I can only imagine what lies he's whispered in Kingsley's ears," Harry added with spite.

"Oh _really_ you two! He killed his flipping aunt. Surely that has to count for something?" Lavender piped up again.

"That only proves one thing. He's a traitor. If he turns on his own you can be sure as shit that he will turn on the rest of us."

Hermione felt her temper prick at that comment.

"Come off it Ron! His aunt was pure evil. Tell me you wouldn't want yours dealt with if she were a Death Eater."

All heads turned to Hermione, their faces ranging from triumph to disbelief to shock.

"Hermione is right, _as usual._ It's not Malfoy's fault he came from a bunch of crazies," Lavender explained.

"Exactly, _darling. _And what do you think that makes him?" Ron sneered.

"It makes him a victim," Hermione insisted, not understanding why she was suddenly coming to his defense.

"A victim?" Ron laughed cruelly. "Did his handsome face already gaslight you Hermione? He's the one who abused you."

"He didn't _abuse_ her Ron! He teased her," Lavender pointed out with an annoying simper.

"Because you were such a saint, right? You never said anything cruel, you never hurt me or Harry...I can't think of even_ one_ instance when you fucked up, Ronald, can you, Harry?" she mocked sarcastically. The weight of Ron leaving during the Horcrux hunt settled on them in a moment of tense silence.

"Hermione-" Harry stared, wishing to avoid an escalating fight.

"That's just like you, isn't? To defend the underdog, to see the best in a total loser," Ron snapped.

"Yes Ron, guess you picked up on my bad habits over the years," she hissed with scathing venom as she jerked her head towards Lavender's perplexed face. "Excuse me."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left the three of them standing speechless in her wake.

She needed air, and another drink if she was going to survive the rest of this gathering. She dodged several co-workers before swiping a glass of whiskey from a tray and slipping out through the glass doors and onto the balcony.

Hermione breathed in the salt air, relishing the cool flutter against her flushed skin. She took a generous sip of her drink and set it down on the railing with her mask.

She looked up at the moon. It was full and glowing, radiating a certain instinctual and ancient power onto her. She felt magic and energy flowing through her veins. She felt alive here...free.

And it all belonged to her sworn enemy. Yes, after tonight there was no denying that Draco Malfoy lived to see her suffer.

Hermione sighed as she wandered down the steps and off into a lush garden on her right. She easily lost herself in the fairy lights and shadows, contemplating her situation and what she was going to tell Harry once they left this charade of a party. He was much too polite to make a scene in public-unlike the thorn in her side.

The way he stared at her with those cold, punishing eyes, all masked behind a sardonic smirk of victory. He'd gone and made himself a hero, and for what purpose? Was it worth destroying everything they had? Why did he do it?

_To be the kind of man you could be proud of. _Her words came back at her with vengeance.

And now? It seemed as if he wanted her to see what she was missing.

Hermione wove her way through the hedge maze to the center of small courtyard with a fountain. She sat down carefully, looking over the edge at the dark water, studying her confused expression.

That was when she saw it.

The slightest flicker of light gleamed at her from the bottom of the shallow pool.

Very carefully she reached her hand in and pulled out her engagement ring. She held it up to the light, inspecting it carefully. How did he know she would come here? How could he chance it? She guessed that was his motto these days, everything on chance. Or maybe he was too arrogant for his own good and knew how she worked better than most.

Either way, she felt him before she saw him. His dangerous voice came to her from the darkness. She didn't have to look up to know he was blocking her only path out.

"I see you found your treasure," he hissed as he slowly moved into the light, his tall frame graced with an all black tux and a white rose for a boutonniere.

He looked harder, impossibly more handsome and extremely alluring. Hermione clenched her fists at her sides as she turned fully to face him. The mask of Harlequin was dangling in his lean fingers. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

"You stole that from my apartment," she spat, pointing towards the sinister-looking mask and rising to her feet.

"I've stolen many things from you, Granger. None I'm willing to give back," he bit out as he walked slowly towards her. "Except that worthless piece of metal you've been frantic to recover," he snarled eyeing the ring she placed on the fountain's edge—he tossed the mask down beside it. "Mine looks much better on you," he insisted with a smooth tone as he stopped only inches from her.

Hermione tried to wrench off the ring she'd been wearing in the place of her own, but it was stuck.

Magically stuck.

"What the hell are you playing at?" she nearly screamed, fire dancing in her eyes.

A slow, wicked smirk slid across his sharp features.

"Might I ask you the same question_._"

Hermione felt her head spin as she burst out into disbelieving laughter.

"Remove it."

"Tell me something," he inquired as he circled her, taking her in. "Did you wear red for yourself or for your_ fiancé_?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" she raged, reaching beneath her skirt to retrieve her weapon. His hot eyes burned into her exposed skin as she reached for her wand. His hand was on hers, the tips of his fingers caressing the inside of her thigh just above the garter. Hermione gasped as she tried to pull away from him, but he brought her fully against his rock hard chest.

"It won't come off," he whispered sinfully, as his arms snaked around her, forcing her to feel his desire for her. "Accept it."

"Malfoy, this is insane. Let go of me," she urged, though she could not mask the passion that was stirring in her chest.

"Or what?"

"I'll scream."

"You know I love it when you do."

Hermione shoved him as hard as she possibly could. She stumbled back and caught herself but he was already once again advancing.

"Stop!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt her knees buckling. "Please, Draco. Stop this."

He paused, looking torn between enjoyment and concern. Was it possible to want to hurt and help someone you loved and hated at the same time?

She dropped back down onto the fountain's edge and stared up at him in desperation.

"What happened? Why did you leave? How did you expect me to think you would come back? You told me nothing. Draco, I thought you were dead."

He let out a grim sigh before reluctantly sitting down beside her.

"That would have been easier for everyone, wouldn't it?" he bit out, hurt evident in his tone.

"What happened?" she repeated, turning to look in his haunted eyes.

It was minutes before he began to speak. But Hermione knew he would, she knew he took his time before engaging in a serious conversation and he knew she was patient.

Some things never changed.

"After our fight, I thought about what you said. How could I be better? I was angry, I worked hard to get where I was and you threw it all back in my face. I always knew I wasn't as good as you Granger, there was no competition. But maybe..." he trailed off, staring her down, forcing her to see his soul. She watched him with caution, trying to catch the rapid fire emotions spiraling through his gaze. After several moments his thoughts seemed to shift. "I never denied I was selfish, especially when it comes to you."

He reached out to caress her face. She tried to pull back put he wouldn't let her.

"Fuck, I missed you. In my mind… every single day. The thought of seeing your face again was the only thing that kept me fighting," he rasped harshly, pulling her forehead against his own. He closed his eyes. "Two and a half years ago, I was so close to ridding you of that evil bitch, to ending your suffering. But I was caught," he paused. She was sure he was reliving every horrible thing that had been done to him...but from the outside, Draco Malfoy looked as calm and composed and unscathed as ever. "I survived."

"How did you escape?" she breathed, resisting the urge to give into him.

"It doesn't matter now. The important thing," he pulled back from her, his hand still wrapped around the nape of her neck. "Is that I was set up."

"Set up?"

"Yes," he hissed. "Someone was following me. Someone who knew where I was going," his gaze darkened into wicked violence. "And when I find out who that person was, they are going to pay dearly."

"How can you be sure?"

"Before I killed my lovely aunt, she told me things. Things she would not have revealed if I'd not forced her."

Hermione swallowed at the calm tone he used to describe torturing his aunt.

"It was slow," he whispered, leaning down to place an open mouthed kiss against her neck. "And long, I dragged it out until she was pleading," he hissed, biting down on her earlobe. "For release."

Hermione stood suddenly, knocking him back. Her whole body was shaking— she needed to get the hell away from him.

"It doesn't excuse anything. Why couldn't you tell me?"

"And put you in danger? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

_The worst kind_, she thought vehemently.

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

"Are you, though? I can see you haven't made the best decisions while I've been away," he seethed with a smirk.

"And this is how you return?" She flung her arms out around them. "With this fanfare scheme to bring society under your grasp? Sneaking into my office and my home and driving me half insane?"

"Granger you've always been insane. You love it there. It's why you're with me."

"I am not with you! I am marrying Harry in two weeks!"

There was a deadly silence that ran chills down her spine. She could taste his wrath radiating on the air.

"No. You're not."

"Oh alright, if you say so," she mocked with a nasty sneer. "You know what Malfoy? You don't get to just come barging back into my life after three years of absolutely nothing, making demands and buying dream houses."

"I would have been back sooner if I'd not been betrayed. It seems as if someone wanted me to stay away. Or better yet rot in some shallow grave."

Hermione burst into tears.

"You absolutely beast! That's exactly what I thought happened to you!" she screeched, slapping his chest repeatedly. "I thought you were dead. Dead! Do you know what that feels like?"

He let her continue to pound away on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He held her close until her sobs died down. When she finally went still, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and tightened his grip.

"You love me, Granger. Even after it all, I can feel it in you," he whispered with something close to reverence.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she gasped against his jacket.

"Your love."

"Don't say that," she snapped, once again pulling away from him. She turned her back, she could not face him when he spoke in that soft caress.

"Pretend all you like, but if Potter even attempts to put a wedding band on that finger it will kill him."

She turned back slowly, her face filled with rage and shock.

"You're lying."

"I would never lie to you, Granger."

She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand.

"What's done is done."

"I hate you," she spat, "I curse you to hell."

"But I've just gotten back."

"Stay away from me, I'm serious."

His smile mingled with malevolence and seduction.

"You are mine and I am yours. Your first and your last."

With one last glance at the wicked man who was making her heart break all over again, Hermione turned and fled as his voice carried over the rising wind to reach her ears, but it was Heathcliff's words that came back to her:

"_I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"_

* * *

Hermione returned quickly and out of breath to Harry's side, realizing she had been away for almost forty minutes.

He opened his mouth to ask her where the hell she went, but the look in her eyes told him it wasn't a conversation to have in a crowded ballroom. He made their excuses— Hermione came down with a migraine—and swiftly escorted her towards the floo.

"Your place," she muttered, trying as hard as she could to keep from spinning around to meet the hateful glare she knew was following them.

She only took a breath once they stepped out of the fireplace and into Harry's cozy sitting room.

Hermione immediately let go of her fiancé and began to pace. Harry slowly lowered himself onto the sofa and watched her with trepidation.

"Malfoy!" she nearly screamed as she threw her head back with distress, as if pleading with the ceiling to take it all away.

Harry's eyes immediately sharpened, his muscles flexing as his protective nature reared its head.

"What did he do to you?"

Hermione waved his words away as she reached for her wand, still feeling a tingle where Malfoy's fingers caressed her sensitive skin.

She summoned a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, magically pouring and watching as one of the glasses shoved itself under Harry's nose. He took it, his eyes never leaving her tense form.

"Harry, I…" she took a breath and then it all came pouring out.

He sat in silence as she recalled the start, middle and end of her and Malfoy's insane relationship. She left nothing out—except for the comments Malfoy made about Bellatrix and being set up, those were personal for him and completely besides the point— leading all the way up to the shocking tricks he pulled tonight. It took her almost a half hour to get it out and in that time Harry had not said one word. She saw him physically react—flinching and clenching his fists, a dark scowl and narrowed eyes, a strangled growl, and then utter defeat.

When Hermione finished, she dropped down onto the couch beside him and drank straight from the bottle.

It felt like years before she heard the emotional voice beside her.

"You lied to me," he began carefully.

"I know-"

"-For years," he finished, his tone clogged with anguish.

"I know," she repeated, feeling as if every bone in her chest was splintering.

"Why?"

"I…" she thought back to the last night she had with Draco. "I was ashamed. I never thought you and Ron would be able to understand. I thought you would hate me."

Harry was already shaking his head.

"I could never hate you Hermione."

"You should," she insisted. "I wanted to tell you, right before we got together. On the roof of the Burrow, remember? But then you were kissing me, and I didn't want anything in the world to ruin that memory."

He laughed in a broken way, gesturing to the ring on her finger.

"I'm such an idiot. How did I not notice?" he swore under his breath as he removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead with agitation.

"Harry, it's insane. How could we have known?" she tried, feeling desperately guilty.

"But you did know. You knew it wasn't mine," he reminded her with a bit of hysteria.

"I panicked, I didn't know that this would happen. I didn't want to get you involved," she pleaded, practically begging him to understand. "I thought he would harass you, or try to hurt you-"

"-Is it because you love him?" he interrupted quietly, turning his vivid green eyes on her.

"Harry, I love you," she declared passionately, grabbing his hands. That much was true. She loved him. She did.

He watched her carefully, his features filled with tension and underlying ire.

"But you're engaged to _him_."

"We don't know that. He could just be pulling some sick joke with a bit of foolish magic-"

"-Stop defending him!" Harry shouted, finally losing his cool as he shot to his feet. "A joke!? Hermione, that ring is probably cursed with dark magic, it could be sucking the life out of you at this very moment for all we know!"

"He was clear on what the ring does Harry. It makes it so I can't marry you."

He threw his glass at the wall as it shattered into a million pieces.

"Dammit! God DAMMIT!" he yelled, running his hands through his hair with frenzy. "I'm going to kill him."

"Harry-"

"-I'm going to do what I should have done years ago. He's going to rot in prison for this," he spat, pacing the floor like a mad man.

"Harry! Please, blame me-"

"I will! This is your fault, Hermione. You handle it. You get that _fucking_ ring off and I will return it to him with the _promise _that if he comes within an inch of you I will personally drag him to Azkaban. I know he thinks he's some kind of hero now, but let me assure you I pull rank when it comes to disposing of villains."

"I'll sort it out. I'll start researching right away," she promised, kicking off her heels and storming towards Harry's bookshelf. "There must be a way."

"There better be or he's a dead man," Harry snapped, running his hands over his face and dropping back onto the sofa. "A dead man," he muttered again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you reviewers, you guys keep me going! (rabradley09- More delicious darkness to come ;), AmethystRoseMalfoy- You might be onto something, but who can say for sure? I'm a Slytherin and therefore cannot be trusted ;) , SlyTwiHunter- Your reviews make my day! LOL love the ****comparison, but being an actor, Monday is actually my only day off! And isn't Draco such a snarky little fuck?! Looking forward to your thoughts on this chappie and thank you, as always, for your very kind words :)**

**Enjoy darlings,**

**M. x **

Hermione barely slept for the next week straight, consulting any and every single reference she could on pure blood engagements and family rings.

Everything was airtight and secretive— the only person who could possibly know how to undo this was Draco Malfoy himself.

Hermione briefly considered going ahead with the wedding and just forgoing the exchange of rings, but when she brought this up to Harry he was absolutely adamant that she would be truly married to him or they wouldn't be married at all.

She couldn't blame Harry—she would have felt the same way if the situation were reversed. And what a situation it was. He was more distant than he'd ever been before. She tried to keep things normal, but he couldn't look at her now without seeing the ring and thinking of Malfoy. He said so when she showed up at his house in the middle of the night after a bout of insomnia and he closed the door in her face.

They decided to keep the whole thing a secret from the rest of their friends, hoping that the issue would be resolved before the ceremony. That was looking less likely every day.

And each morning, Hermione was now greeted with newspapers absolutely filled with the face of Draco Malfoy—his heroic return to society, the torture he endured and his plans moving forward. All the public could do was speculate, along with Hermione.

She had no idea what his next move would be, but she was as sure as the sky was blue, that there would definitely be one.

In the meantime, she buried herself in work and spent the long nights thinking of anything she could do to banish Draco Malfoy from her life. Her dreams were more intense than ever, as if they were purposely pushing her in his direction, begging her to see what was truly in her heart. His last words resounded again and again in her head, making her weak with emotion and confused by the sudden pain of it all. She worked so desperately, too hard, to get over him.

She had loved him so deeply, and he left without another thought. But was that true?

And if she gave into him, would he only leave again? Up until a week ago she had a good thing with Harry, a comfortable and happy life awaiting her. But now, Draco Malfoy's presence upheaved her entire existence once more.

Why couldn't she let it go?— Because he wouldn't let her.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione glanced up from her desk, Kingsley was standing in her office doorway looking at her with a most peculiar expression.

"Is everything alright?" she asked quickly, getting to her feet.

The Minister came forward, indicating she should stay seated.

"I was going to ask you the same question. We scheduled an appointment for Monday morning, it is now Friday afternoon."

"I've been swamped," she insisted.

"My apologies, I thought what we had to discuss was of the upmost importance to you."

"It doesn't matter now," she stated flatly.

"Doesn't it? Are you aware that Mr. Malfoy believes that his capture was orchestrated by someone within these four walls?"

That got Hermione's attention.

"That's ridiculous."

"That was my reaction as well. But since he has been so persistent in pursuing it, there are a few things I've looked into that validate his story."

Hermione frowned with confusion.

"Who would do such a thing?"

"I was hoping you might have a few ideas yourself?" he asked, lowering himself into the chair across from her.

"Take your pick. I'm sure there is a rather long list of people who might wish Malfoy dead," she commented rather bluntly.

Kingsley's gaze briefly flickered to the ring on her finger.

"Any chance you might be on that list, Hermione?"

She gave him a contemptuous glare.

"Trust me. If I wanted Draco Malfoy dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The Minister smiled briefly before once again becoming serious.

"I am compiling a list based on the information Malfoy took from Bellatrix. I am also locating anyone with a possible motive, as well looking into the entire Auror department's whereabouts on the night Malfoy left for his mission."

"Auror department? Why?"

"They would be the only ones with access to classified information."

"What information did Malfoy give you?" she pressed, a mystery already brewing in her eyes.

"That, you will have to ask him yourself," Kingsley rose effortlessly to his feet. "Good day, Ms. Granger."

Was there no reprieve? Would all of her questions remain unanswered until she returned to the snake?

It was only three in the afternoon but Hermione knew there was no way she would be able to continue working. Her mind felt as if it were on overdrive. So she sent Vicky home, locked herself in her office and began to drink.

Draco Malfoy was turning her into an alcoholic.

What were her options? She exhausted all books and sources on the matter of the tiny shackle chained to her ring finger. She looked down at it, noticing for the first time a small pair of engraved initials. Theirs. She tugged at the diamond futilely, stubbornly- it would not budge. Hermione took a shot of whiskey and forced her mind to the other matter at hand.

Malfoy's set up.

If what he said was true, the person responsible for his capture, torture and almost murder could be walking around on the floor above her right now. That didn't sit well with Hermione. It could be anyone, but why? Was it someone she knew? Possibly. She was dying to find out what Draco told Kingsley, but once again she knew she would have to see him personally for that information. He held the answers locked away at 'Wuthering Heights.'

She scoffed to herself at his arrogance. This was it. She was going to go over there right now and settle all of this. She was sick of Harry avoiding her, she was tired of this game and she wanted answers.

Hermione took another shot and got unsteadily to her feet. She had skipped lunch due to the Minister's little visit. Realizing that it was probably a bad idea for her to confront Draco Malfoy in this current state, was very far from her mind as she made her way through the atrium and into the floo.

* * *

"What the-?" Blaise Zabini's glass of brandy was halfway to his lips when a woman came tumbling out of the fireplace covered in soot. "Oh my. What do we have here?" he leered, stepping closer to look down at her.

Hermione staggered to her feet, eyes furious and crackling with magic. Blaise took a step back, recognizing her with shock.

"Where is he?" she hissed, looking around the now familiar foyer of his splendid mansion.

"Who?" Blaise asked innocently as he watched her siphon most of the soot off—there was still a bit on the tip of her nose. His lips quirked with amusement. "Merlin Granger, you look fantastic," he began, attempting a bow.

"Save it," she snapped as she pushed past him striding down the hall.

"He's not down there," he sung in a maddeningly sweet voice.

Hermione spun on her heel, a glare of death aimed at the pompous Slytherin. He pointed to the ceiling as she stalked back down the hall and began taking the stairs two at a time. Blaise let out a little giggle as he covered his mouth and smirked at her retreating frame. He would need no extendable ears to be privy to this conversation.

"Malfoy!" she bellowed, tearing across the balcony and towards two double doors that looked as if they led to the master suite. She blasted them open with her wand, storming inside and ready for battle.

She wasn't prepared.

He turned in surprise at the sound of her war call, his eyes widening as he took her in. Hermione's jaw fell open in shock and she dropped her wand arm.

There he stood, like a demigod out of some wild dream, rippling muscles and smooth skin peppered with scars.

And he was completely naked.

"Oh," was all she could say as she slammed her eyes shut.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," he drawled. She could hear him coming closer as his feet slapped against the marble floors. "Open your eyes, Granger," he commanded, only inches from her skin.

"Who set you up?" He paused in his pursuit. Good. She confused him with her question. "Kingsley came by my office today. He said you gave him information that would allow him to move ahead with an investigation."

"Are you drunk?"

She snapped her eyes open. He was staring at her with a mixture of desire and amusement.

"No," she snapped, taking a step back. "Put some clothes on! And answer my question!"

"Which demand would you like me to meet first?" he smirked as he wiped the soot off of her nose. She slapped his hand away.

"The first!"

He sighed with annoyance as he turned away to grab a towel off the bed. Hermione tried not to look, but he was so magnificent—clearly he just came out of the shower, his hair slicked back like that made her stomach flip.

He took his time securing the towel around his hips, his steady gaze taunting her with the dark promise of pleasure.

Hermione glared back, reminding herself that this manipulative snake was undoing her life.

"Well?" she spat.

"Well what?" he raised an arrogant eyebrow.

"What information did Bellatrix give you?"

"If I tell you, do I get something in return?" he whispered with wickedness.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush against her will.

"I won't hex you into next week, how is that?"

"Already making demands. We haven't even been engaged a month and this is how you treat me?" he mocked with fake outrage.

"You are seriously testing my temper, Draco. Out with it."

She walked further into the room, eyeing her surroundings and keeping her distance from the massive four-poster bed covered with silk black sheets.

Instead she moved towards the balcony, which also looked out over the ocean.

"Griphook," he stated as his eyes followed her every move.

Hermione blanked, spinning to face him again.

"The goblin? What does he have to do with any of this?"

"He left London after Voldemort's fall, ended up in Albania. According to Bellatrix she was contacted by the goblin and a few of his associates, who were plotting a revenge."

"Against who?"

"No Granger, _for _who is the question you should be asking."

"Alright," she urged him on with irritation, nodding to indicate that she was following along just fine.

"Apparently someone back in London had it out for me. Someone with ties to the Ministry. Someone who knew that I was coming for Bellatrix. Griphook and his little gang received quite the sum for their services of trapping me and delivering me to her. Alive, of course."

Hermione shuddered as she stared at the dark look that entered his gaze.

"Did Griphook tell her who it was?"

"No. He only named them 'the thief' and proclaimed he was helping the human because there was a debt to settle."

Hermione wracked her brains, thinking of who had known Griphook and was also in the Auror department…Dean Thomas? Why would he do such a thing? Given he did hate Draco more than almost anyone. Ron? She felt her blood run cold, of course not. Ron despised Malfoy but he would never have orchestrated for him to be killed, would he? And Harry...it wasn't possible.

Draco must have seen the distress on her face because he was across the room and she was in his arms within a second.

"Don't cry," he whispered softly. "I'm here now. I promise, I won't ever leave you again, Granger. I'm the man you wanted me to be now. I'm ready. I'll let it all go."

She couldn't bare the feeling of his naked chest pressed against her cheek.

"Draco," she moaned with anguish. "It's too late. I can't."

"Why?" he demanded with harsh longing. "Why not?"

"Harry-"

He pulled back from her, a scowl marring his perfect features.

"You're still wearing my ring."

"Of course I am! It won't come off! We aren't actually engaged, are we?"

He smiled secretly and turned away.

"Malfoy this isn't funny, alright? Harry is furious, he's threatening all sorts of things-"

He spun back, fury etched into his strikingly handsome face.

"Oh let him come for me. I would love nothing more," he sneered, clenching his fists.

"He won't marry me until you take this stupid thing off!" she yelled, losing her head completely.

"And here I was thinking you were _smart_," he snapped with condescension. "You know why the ring won't come off, bookworm? Because you don't _want_ it to. If you truly, and I mean _truly_ love Potter the way you claim you do, that ring would slip off as if it were three sizes too big. Actually it wouldn't fit on your finger at all. It's made for you, as you are for me! No magic can break that bond. The ring will come off only when you've given up on me. And I swear, Hermione Granger, I will never let that happen."

She let out a cry of shock as he slammed her body up against the wall and claimed her mouth with a searing, mind-altering kiss. Before she even had time to react, he pulled back from her face, still holding her wrists tightly in his grasp.

"You love me," he argued, "Admit it. Admit how much you fucking love me!" his voice broke on the last syllable with desperation.

"You tricked me," she flung back, tears in her eyes. "You lied. You left me!"

"I had to!" he roared, "I had to Granger, I did what you asked. I proved myself!"

"I already knew what kind of man you were, I already knew I wanted to be with you. I already KNEW you impossible idiot! All I wanted was for you to get along with my friends. That's all!"

"Your _friends_? You mean the man you've let into our bed?"

"My bed! It is MINE! You gave that up when you decided to fly off the handle and disappear!"

"I told you, I thought I would be back sooner. Goddammit Granger I didn't plan on being crucio-ed to the brink of insanity. I didn't plan on having Bellatrix place memories of your torture inside of my head. I didn't survive just to lose you to the better man."

He let go of her and moved away. His chest heaving, his eyes alight with passion and fury and pain.

"Draco-"

"-The ring won't come off until you want it to. Until then, you keep on deluding yourself. Have a happy walk down an empty aisle," he stormed from the room, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

Hermione made her way numbly back through the home that could have been hers. It was only when she reached the foyer and was about to step into the floo, that Blaise Zabini's voice came from behind her.

"See you soon, _Mrs. Malfoy._"

She hexed him before he could laugh at his own joke.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the reviews (SheLovesThunder, ShadyLainey & Guests!) You are all fantastic. Please enjoy :)**

**M. x**

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, good evening. May I check your coats?"

Hermione handed her shawl over numbly as she turned to take Harry's arm and let him lead her into the newest restaurant in Wizarding London. It was decadent and romantic, with dark paneled walls and tables hidden away in little alcoves.

The host brought them to a round booth in the back near a roaring fireplace. It was cozy and dimly lit. Hermione sighed with relief, at least she could hide from everyone but herself this evening.

It was only a week until the wedding and this was the first time she'd been alone with Harry since he dismissed her. Considering arrangements needed to be made, this problem had to be discussed and so he agreed to meet for dinner.

Harry was subdued tonight, lost in thoughts of his own. Hermione was anxious, terrified at the conversation she was about to start.

She spent the week revisiting the trip she took to Malfoy's and the damning evidence she received about her own feelings… if what he said was true. The glint in his eyes told her he wasn't lying. If it was really her choice to remove the ring and she couldn't, then she'd have to tell her fiancé.

She also spent plenty of time mulling over her relationship with Harry, the comfortability, the stability…but would she always want more? Would she feel as if she settled by giving up on the O and accepting the E? Was she really thinking of this in terms of exams?

The ring felt extra heavy on her finger tonight and she made a point to keep it hidden beneath the table as they received their drink orders and returned to silence.

"Harry-"

-"Hermione-"

They both stopped. She gave a little smile, his face remained neutral.

"Go ahead," she prompted, taking a sip of her wine.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding foolish," he began in a low voice. "But I've decided I don't care."

She raised an eyebrow as she almost choked on her wine.

"Sorry?"

"I don't care about the bloody ring. I'm over it."

"Oh." Not knowing what she could possibly say, Hermione took another large sip.

"He didn't ask you to marry him. There was no free will. As far as I'm concerned he pulled some illegal magic. So I've filed a case against him." Hermione tried to interrupt but he plowed over her. "I don't care if you agree with it, it's my final decision and the only way I can move past this. I don't need to lay my mark on you like some kind of animal, I know you don't belong to me. I know you are your own person."

Hermione felt her heart break just a little more as she thought back to how empty she'd been when Draco left. Had she been her own person then? Or just a shell without him? Had she ever really, fully, regained her happiness? Hermione had been more sure of herself when Draco was with her than any other time in her life. Maybe that was just his arrogance that rubbed off on her. With Harry, she always felt as if she were compensating, losing a bit of her fire and attitude for fear of hurting him. Not something she worried about when she had the indestructible blonde nightmare to contend with.

"And I refuse to let him come between us. I realize this is exactly what he wants, he thinks I will push you into his arms. But no more," Harry's voice grew stronger. "I love you and I've missed you. I hate not speaking to you, or having you fall asleep in my arms,"

"Harry," she tried desperately, wishing he would stop, he was only making this harder.

"And I know I said this was your fault, but it's not Hermione. It's mine. I should have been a better friend, a better partner, for all these years…I should have known something was going on. I'm an Auror! How did I not connect the dots?"

"You always had me connecting them for you," she whispered, not realizing she'd spoken out loud.

He laughed a little.

"Yeah, you're right about that."

It was now or never, she thought, mustering her courage to tell him the truth.

"Isn't she _always _right?" drawled a voice from above them.

Harry and Hermione's heads snapped up at the exact same time to come face to face with Draco Malfoy.

On his arm, was none other than Ginny Weasley.

"You're so funny Draco!" Ginny laughed, smirking at their shocked faces.

"Were we interrupting something?" Draco questioned, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Hermione could feel Harry's rising fury from across the table. .

"What are you doing with him Ginny?" he bit out as he threw a look of disgust at Malfoy.

Ginny gave Draco a devious smile before batting her eyelashes at Harry.

"Draco and I are together. We actually just got back from a weekend in Paris!"

Harry opened his mouth to attack Malfoy, but before he could get the words out, Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand.

"That's my ring!" she gasped, her eyes flashing to Draco's with blinding rage.

"What?" Ginny asked as she looked down at her hand. "Oh, this trinket? Draco gave it to me. It's a _promise_ ring. That's why I'm wearing it on this one. See?" she demonstrating by giving Harry the finger.

"You're treading on seriously dangerous ground, Malfoy," Harry growled.

"Aren't we all Potter?" he boasted with a victorious sneer. He turned his eyes to Hermione and Harry's jaw ticked dangerously as Malfoy's features softened just the slightest bit. "You look ravishing."

"Piss off before I have you thrown out of here," Harry's eyes were glowing with lividness.

Draco reached inside his pocket and tossed a few galleons down at Harry.

"For the inconvenience," he insisted. "Not that she needs another."

Harry was on his feet in an instant.

"Actually," Hermione drawled, feeling jealously and betrayal eat away at her insides as Draco dazzled Ginny with one of his rare smiles. "You _were_ interrupting something, weren't they dear?" she asked Harry, her eyes on Malfoy who realized instantly that he was being baited.

Harry ignored her as he stepped up to Malfoy, the two were only inches apart now.

"I will destroy you," Harry promised under his breath. "Very soon."

Hermione saw Draco itching to go for his wand. She turned to Ginny.

"Harry and I were just discussing our wedding—the ceremony specifically. We actually decided to go ahead and rearrange it a bit, we don't want it to be stuffy, traditional or boring. It's what makes our relationship so…" she let the word hang, a dreamy look coming across her face. "Exciting. A little last minute planning is all," she announced smoothly.

She watched as Harry's body relaxed, his eyes still trained on the enemy.

Malfoy's features were growing more sinister by the moment.

"How quaint," he snarled, his arm wrapping around Ginny's waist as he pulled her against him

"Darling, come here, I miss you already," Hermione cooed, reaching for Harry, who thankfully complied and sunk back down next to her. "Have a wonderful evening," she insisted, as she turned towards Harry and dismissed the two.

With a look that spoke volumes, Malfoy spun on his heel, practically dragging Ginny across the restaurant.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked carefully.

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Merlin Hermione, out of all the men you had to chose…" he let his words trail off as she closed her eyes.

"I know. Trust me. I know."

* * *

It felt as if they made love on principle that night. Harry was unusually rough with her, or maybe she was with him. Hermione couldn't remember now, it all seemed like a blur as they lay back-to-back— silent. She briefly wondered if in this moment, he was thinking of Ginny as she was Malfoy.

Was she his second best as well?

The weekend in Paris. Hermione felt the stab in her heart like a serrated knife, just gnawing away at her until she was shredded and raw.

That absolute bastard, how many times did he ask her if she wanted to go?

And how many weekends had she made excuses because of her friends? Hermione felt bitter resentment flare deep in her bones.

A promise ring? So then she wasn't engaged to him, she wasn't his love, she wasn't anything but stuck in an impossible situation and with a reminder that a part of him would be with her forever.

In that moment, she hated him more than she could possibly hate another human in existence. She hated him for making her so vulnerable, so weak. She hated the passion she felt for him and his lingering essence that she could no longer escape. She hated him with every inch, every ounce, of her soul. And yet the ring would not come off.

All of her hate, was _his_.

Hermione waited until she heard Harry's breathing even out before she slid from beneath the sheets and dressed quietly. She couldn't bare to wake up, with the heartbreak she knew would hit her full force in the morning, and have to face him.

Instead, she succumbed to her fate and took the lonely walk home in the pouring rain. If anything could cleanse her of Draco Malfoy, she hoped it would be this.

* * *

Draco lay awake, his head spinning.

After he paid Weaselette off for her insipid lies and sent her home disappointed, he turned to drink.

She would come to him, she would. It was only a matter of time. He smirked as he thought about the outrage he'd seen in her eyes-the way she absolutely seethed when he smiled at Ginerva.

His face darkened almost instantly as he took another swig from the bottle of Ogden's. His perfect little plan backfired. Instead of her jealously turning outwards-fighting for him as he would for her-she killed him with stealth instead. The way she threw Potter in his face, twisting his sick little game back on him until he was boiling with venom.

He had to give her credit, Slytherin or not, his lioness always gave better than she got.

And that's what he would do now. Give her the best and that was certainly not what she'd got. Not from him and definitely not with Potter.

But that was the whole purpose of his mission, to mirror himself into something better than the man she always admired, the man she claimed was her best friend... _like a brother,_ she told him over and over again whenever he would question Scar Head's motives.

All of it was a lie.

Lies.

And still he could not let her go. He would torture her with pleasure for this, he would have her tied up and begging for days before he gave her what she wanted. One way or another, they would be together.

"Why him?" he snarled to himself.

"Malfoy?"

Draco jerked his head towards the closed doors.

"What?" he slurred, swigging the dregs of the bottle and reaching for another one.

Blaise rushed in, his eyes alight with promise.

Draco started, siting up straight.

"Is she here?" he breathed, hoping his fantasy was true-that she would come back, throw herself into his arms and love him until he turned to dust.

Blaise shook his head as Draco visibly deflated and turned, giving him his back.

"Piss off then."

His best mate let out an agitated sigh.

"Draco get up! The Minister is downstairs and he has information."

* * *

Hermione was a nervous wreck.

The days seemed to fly past as if they were nothing more than feathers in the wind. She couldn't focus on anything or concentrate at work. Vicky chalked it up to wedding jitters and insisted she take the remaining three days off before her 'big day.'

The free time almost did her in. So she insisted on staying out of the house and busy.

The air was abuzz with gossip and chatter, people kept smiling at her and throwing her knowing winks. Everyone around her was excited and looking forward to the most sensational event of the year, everyone but Hermione, who was unable to eat or sit down for more than two minutes without jumping to her feet and pacing.

The heartbreak she thought that would come with Draco Malfoy's betrayal was short lived, especially when she spotted Ginny Weasley in Diagon Alley yesterday afternoon lip-locked with Lee Jordan and sporting no promise ring.

She got further confirmation after speaking with Oliver Wood—when she popped into Flourish and Blotts for a look—who went on telling her about the smashing time he and Ginny had last weekend in Wales at a Quidditch event.

So Paris and promise rings were a lie.

All he did was lie.

"I'll never lie to you Granger," she mocked to herself as she hurried on her way.

Hermione anticipated the days would drag with her having nothing to do, but they flew by much too quickly. Mrs. Weasley refused to let her lift a finger in regards to wedding preparations— not that she had any desire to do so, not when she was getting married and she was in love with another man.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. It was true. She was, but she loved Harry too. Just, not in the same psychotically desperate way.

She couldn't go into this with all these doubts. She promised herself that. No regrets. _Stop lying!_ She screamed internally.

The night before the wedding the Weasley's hosted a small rehearsal dinner at the Burrow. Hermione couldn't help but ache at the nostalgia as Harry sat beside her holding her hand. She watched him carefully throughout the night, he looked more than exhausted and a little on edge. She wondered if he was as unsure about this as she was.

But this was what she promised. She would let go of Draco, if anything he proved, more in the last few weeks then he did in several years, all the reasons why they shouldn't be together. And yet, she feared he would never leave her. Like an incurable disease, he would continue to pollute her system until she shut down in madness.

Harry would never leave her, she reminded herself. Malfoy had already done that, even if he thought his actions were justifiable.

Back and forth she went, unable to settle her thoughts on a proper decision, a conviction. She was a pendulum, swinging to and fro between these opposing forces, it was only a matter of time before everything began to blur together.

As the party wrapped up, Harry offered to escort her home. She claimed her last night as a single woman would be spent alone, and after a long lingering kiss, they said good night. Hermione couldn't help but feel as if something were wrong. Harry's eyes worried her which sent alarm bells off in her head in a way that he never did before.

She thought the irony of this whole thing would be that they went into this thinking it was what the other wanted and in reality, both knowing that it was a mistake. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. Not after everything. This had to be real— but was it? What she felt with Draco, all that pain…it was the realest thing she'd ever experienced.

With Harry, it was…good. _Good._ She nodded to herself, flooing into her cozy sitting room.

She stood there a moment not moving, just letting her emotions and decisions fall over her in waves. Taking it all in and breathing it out.

She could not think anymore. She would not feel.

Hermione drew herself a bath, took a long hot soak and then collapsed on her bed and into the deep abyss of a dreamless rest.

* * *

She moaned in her sleep as arms wrapped slowly around her waist, pressing her body tightly against a hard chest. She curled up instinctually, burrowing her head against his clean shaven neck. She arched her back as he began to place heated kisses across her collarbone and shoulder, his fingers lightly trailing the column of her spine through the sheer material of her tee shirt.

"Granger," he groaned, allowing his hands to explore her body as she rubbed against him. "What I'm about to tell you is very important," he whispered, his hands finding her naked core and drawing slow agonizing circles over her wet flesh. She moaned again, bucking her hips against his tantalizing fingers. "Tomorrow, I will come for you," he promised. "Tomorrow will be ours."

He slowly turned her over onto her back, his hand trailing down her cheek as he stared at her with fierce determination.

Hermione woke seconds later with a gasp.

She was alone.

Breathing heavily, she shook her head trying to dislodge the highly erotic dream she'd been having.

Only…it took her a few moments to realize that she could smell him, his scent, it was in her hair.

Startled, Hermione reached for her wand and cast lumos, her eyes snapped around the shadowed room before falling to the now open windows.

She looked down, her fingers were once again bare.


	7. Chapter 7

**Good Evening lovely people!**

*****Thank you to my reviewers, SlyTwiHunter, rabradley09, SilverStar90, Sopha17, Lunastarice, LadyinRed, bludgerwombat & guests! I am so grateful for you all, writing this would be absolutely no fun without you, so thanks for sticking in!**

**Sorry for the late update- I had an 8am rehearsal this morning and then a nosy neighbor intruded on my much needed solitude this afternoon (both of these things should be illegal). So I am now pouring myself a whiskey, twisting one up and getting into this. Hope you're ready for some drama...**

**Happy stress/reading! ;)**

**M. x**

Dawn came with ominous grey skies and the promise of a windswept storm. After falling back into a restless sleep for about an hour, Hermione woke with a start, her mind flying immediately to Draco's nighttime visit.

A second thought followed shortly after:

She was getting married today.

Hermione once again examined her hands, trying to figure out what possessed him to finally remove the ring. She _knew _there had to be a way to remove it...other than her giving up on him. With both their initials on the ring, she assumed it would work both ways. Maybe _he'd_ given up on _her._

_ Had_ he given up on her? Realized once and for all that they would never truly work?

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what her half-conscious mind could from the words he whispered in her ear as he lit her body on fire with lust. Even when she was asleep, he was able to evoke instantaneous heat inside of her.

She shook her head and glanced despondently at the dark clouds mocking her. She heaved a great sigh as she dragged herself from bed and made her way into the bathroom.

Hermione leaned over the mirror, looking back at the exhausted reflection there. Hundreds of different emotions seemed to flit through her eyes in succession, she felt them all, but was unable to hold onto a single one.

She turned the shower tap to scalding as she slid into the thick steam, the scent of Draco Malfoy still slicked against her skin. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering mornings at her old flat, when he would slip in behind her, unable to keep his hands and mouth off of her, she would give in every time, her cries of pleasure echoing off the tiles and making him growl with need before her took her and made her his once more.

Hermione snapped her eyes open as passionate heat flared through her body. Her desire for him was so strong it made her body shudder.

_Stop. _She hissed to herself, turning the water to freezing.

Molly would be expecting her soon.

The wedding would be taking place at Hogwarts.

Hermione felt cold dread-that had nothing to do with the icy water setting fire to her skin-seep into her soul.

She knew deep down this was all _far_ from over.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was standing in the front of the castle doors, lost in memories of some of the greatest years of her life, years with the man she would call her husband by the end of the evening.

The sky was no different in Scotland, just as forlorn and grey as her psyche.

She attempted to smile through the tears she felt threatening to cascade down her cheeks, wishing more than anything that she just had a bit more time.

She'd been so sure that night at the restaurant was the end, that she and Harry would have broke it off—ever since Draco came back into her life it was becoming harder and harder to force a connection that she felt wavering, even on Harry's end. But then he forgave her, he wanted to try to move on and really make it work. And she was so torn in that moment, knowing that if she did what was easy, she would regret it.

She knew her heart belonged to Draco Malfoy. Truly, belonged.

But then the devil himself appeared and threw Ginny in her face.

She reacted on emotion instead of logic and in turn, in her _need_ to see him suffer as she was suffering, she used Harry and his love for her. She gave him false hope just to wipe the look of satisfaction off Draco's smug face.

And for what? He once again tricked her into thinking he let her go, but all he was doing was trying to rile her up further. How did he expect her to react? Like a mad man? Like him?

Fueled by her righteous anger, Hermione threw her shoulders back and pulled open the doors of Hogwarts, her mind made up.

She and Malfoy were out of chances, and even if she loved him, truly loved him, she would have to bury that piece of herself. She'd done it once before and she would do it again.

She was unburdened. The ring he so perfectly orchestrated onto her finger, he took back in the middle of the night.

It was the end. It was him saying goodbye. She convinced herself as her heart broke one more time.

Hermione wandered down the empty corridors, reliving the secret memories of her and Draco that would be no more. _Dust._ She thought bitterly to herself. Gone, like he'd never been at all. He would put her through this torture again. But she would survive. She must.

The ceremony was set for three in the afternoon. By two, a storm began to move down from the North. A tremulous wind blew across the grounds, rattling windows and creeping in through cracks. Hermione imagined it was an executioner whistling a morbid tune. She looked down from the tall gothic windows as a brief spot of weak sun disappeared out of sight, suffocated by the steadily moving clouds.

From Gryffindor Tower, she could see hundreds of witches and wizards winding their way up to the school grounds, chatting and merrily greeting one another, dressed in their finest.

The hour flew by as Luna, Fleur, Molly and Ginny went to work on her. Hermione basically chose to ignore her existence, though Ginny was trying extra hard to make up for her atrocious behavior.

She finally cornered Hermione away from the others and apologized for her disgusting behavior. She admitted, with shame, that she couldn't pass up an opportunity to make Harry jealous. Ginny admitted that she was _really_ the one that ended it— but it was hard to let go of your first love, she had explained with a pleading look.

Hermione couldn't disagree with her there, she knew exactly how that felt. She pulled Ginny in for a quick hug, recognizing that she was starting over today, she was going to become a new person and everything to do with Malfoy and the rest of her past would be laid to rest. Ginny promised she was over it and that she was just being a spiteful, petty witch.

Hermione forgave her, even if she couldn't forgive herself.

Would she ever be able to live with this guilt? This indecision?

The echoing toll of the bells gave warning that the ceremony would begin soon, just as the first rumbles of thunder shook the sky.

Hermione swallowed the last of her resistance and vowed from this moment on, to move forward. One step at a time.

* * *

The adoration that the massive crowd greeted her with made Hermione uncomfortable in no time.

She was used to all the publicity and fame after the war, but this felt completely different. There was a quiet hush as they watched her.

She took a deep breath.

Music began to play.

_One step at a time_, she reminded herself, as she lifted her gaze to see Harry standing at the edge of the Black Lake, waiting for her.

Almost in the exact spot she'd first kissed _him._

_Stop, _she continued her inner monologue, _Harry chose this spot. He had no idea…_

Hermione concentrated on nothing but his face as she moved forward slowly. As she got closer she hesitated, a small subconscious misstep.

Harry's eyes were not smiling at her. He looked a thousand miles away, as if he might not even be aware she was coming towards him. But he was staring right at her.

She frowned and corrected her footing, simultaneously realizing that everyone was still staring.

She made her way closer…something was wrong, she could see that now in the way he was holding his jaw, the gripping of his hands.

Ron stood next to him, looking equally troubled.

Hermione felt the instinctual need to turn around and see what was behind her, but she knew it was nothing more than a sea of faces. She felt panic skip a quick beat across her chest. The thunder came again, this time much louder.

Hermione swore she could hear a whooshing sound far off in the distance. She glanced to her left, Luna was smiling at her with encouragement. Ginny looked teary eyed.

Her eyes landed on Minerva McGonagall, who would be performing the wedding. Hermione's old professor was staring at her in confusion. It took her a split second to realize it was because she stopped walking again.

Hermione didn't think she could do it.

The air, the clouds above them black as night, the very tension of a storm about to unleash surely indicated that this was all wrong. Was she dreaming? Hermione bit the inside of her lip, no she was here. This was real. This was happening.

The whooshing sound was getting closer. There was an unsettling murmur across the crowd, as those all around her seemed to finally notice the noise. They kept looking at each other, faces ranging in expressions of varying confusion.

Minerva jerked her head up as she scanned the sky with narrowing eyes.

CRACK!

Hermione spun around, whipping out her wand without a second thought as gasps and shrieks erupted amongst the guests.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was striding down the aisle, all illusions of Minister gone. He looked exactly as he did the first time she laid eyes on him-fierce and in his element, even his gold earring was in place.

Hermione almost dropped to her knees. A flash of lightening shocked the sky, followed by a massive clap of thunder.

Her eyes fell to the ever-imposing form of Draco Malfoy, all in black and looking more murderous and unreal than ever. His hair slicked back, a furious gleam of rage in his thunderous eyes.

And following, a pack of Aurors, wands drawn and faces pulled tight.

They rushed past her on both sides. Draco didn't even look at her, but as he swept by her she felt his hand press against hers.

Hermione clutched her palm tightly, she could feel the ring inside of it, it wasn't his—she memorized that ring by touch—it was the one Harry gave her.

She closed her eyes but only for a moment. The guests let out another wave of shocked cries as Kingsley halted two feet from Harry, his wand in hand.

"What is this?" McGonagall snapped, looking around in disapproving disbelief. "Minister, this is a wedding- my God what are you doing?"

"Ronald Weasley, you are under arrest for the organized kidnapping and subsequent capture and torture of Draco Malfoy," Kingsley's authority ridden voice resounded through the wind, catching the ears of all who weren't deaf.

There was a moment of shocked silence and then outrage.

"Where is your proof!?" Ron screamed above the chaos, his face red with fury. "How dare you! A Death Eater, accuse me?"

The guests fell silent at Ron's accusation, waiting with baited breath for the next move.

"Griphook has been more than helpful in identifying you. Once we had enough evidence, I gained permission from the Minister to search for your 'business partner'. It only took me a few days to track him down. He told me a wonderful story, with a few drops of Veritaserum, about how you used your power after the war to intimidate and threaten pureblood wizards into turning over Goblin artifacts which they'd _purchased,_ in turn for a favor. One, you didn't think, that could possibly be traced back to you. But your dumb little wife destroyed your alibi, placing you at a bar one mile in proximity to Grimmauld Place two hours before I left. How the mighty have fallen," Draco seethed, his furious gaze unrelenting.

"That little monster can't be trusted. He's had it out for Harry and I ever since we tried to double-cross him with a sword," Ron snapped.

Harry was staring at Ron in utter shock. "What did you do?"

"You can't set me up like this! Tell them I'm innocent!" he snarled at his best friend, who just continued to stare at him, his mind working fast.

Hermione couldn't move as she slowly allowed the information sink into her brain.

Ron knew. He knew they were onto him—that explained his demeanor. But how could he have possibly committed such a heinous crime? He didn't know about her and Draco, did he?…No one was that good of an actor, were they?

Even though her and Ron grew apart after the war, she always chalked that up to her not giving him a chance on top of Lavender's jealous tendencies. He would sometimes look at her funny and she would wonder, but again, Ron was normally a moody person, she just supposed he'd changed from the war, like the rest of them.

Hermione staggered back, suddenly catching her breath and thinking back to the night she left Grimmauld Place- could he have been in the house somewhere, listening? Had he followed her there after she'd left him and Harry at the pub that day?

After she returned home that same night, Ron showed up a few hours laters, unannounced. It wasn't an uncommon practice of his, especially on a Saturday night, but it was usually when he was arguing with Lavender and needed to vent. That hadn't been the case. He was more than happy to sit next to her, drink a few beers and watch a film. He never said anything, he never even asked her why she poured almost half a bottle of whiskey into her teapot and slugged it down like a sailor.

Had he put his plans into motion that very night?

He was an Auror.

Kingsley lied to her about being the only one to know of Draco's mission. He didn't want to believe it could be someone on their side, how could he? How could she? Though Ron probably heard details before the case was even filed away. And if anyone had access to confidential material, it was the Savior of the Wizarding World's right hand man.

He paid for Draco's blood, his torture, for her heartbreak. And then he waited. Waited until she got back on her feet and then casually began to suggest that she find a boyfriend. Why? Why would he do such a cruel thing? Had Harry known? Was this their personal revenge on her, on Malfoy?

Hermione felt her head spin as waves of lightheadedness crashed over her. The thunder struck again, right above her. She let out a soft cry of anguish.

All heads swiveled towards the forgotten bride, still standing and wand drawn, in the middle of it all.

She almost sank to her knees, several people reached for her, but an explosion of her magic threw them back.

Emotional fury, betrayal, hate, love, fear and shock erupted from her. She felt something inside of her break.

"Why?" she said calmly, moving forward against her will. "_Why?_" she questioned with a sudden ferocity, her entire body shaking.

Ron looked sideways at Harry, who was staring between them with an expression of astonishment. His eyes were wracked with disbelief and pain.

"I did it to protect you!" Ron screamed, "You selfish _bitch_!" he pulled his wand, pointing it directly at Draco's furious face. "You betrayed us for this _monster_!"

Hermione's feet moved on her own accord and before Kingsley or anyone could stop her, she stepped between Ron and Draco.

"Harry?" Hermione cried a bit desperately, feeling the weight of a thousand questions rip through her mind. "Did you know about this?"

He was already shaking his head.

"You said a lot of crazy things after the war," Harry muttered numbly to Ron's twisted scowl. "But I never thought-"

"-Save it, Potter, his skin is mine-" Draco hissed, his wand raised to Ron's heart.

"You knew about us? All this time?" Hermione questioned in a whisper, looking at Ron as if she'd never seen him before.

Ron snarled in her face as Harry closed his eyes.

"Since the beginning. I knew the moment he sunk his claws into you, right here in this exact spot, all those long years ago. Why do you think I suggested to Harry that you should have the ceremony here? To banish those awful memories of your disgusting sympathy towards a man who didn't deserve you. Everything I did, was to make you happy."

"You didn't do this for me, you bastard. You did this for your own sick pleasure. Your twisted revenge," she cried, feeling herself fall apart at the seems, but she was too furious to care.

"Be what it may, I rather see you dead than with him." he promised with spite.

Hermione felt that one like a machete to the guts. She heard Draco growl with fury. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to block out Ron's horrible words which were splintering through her like daggers.

She turned to Harry.

"And you?" she whispered, softly. "Did you know the whole time?"

Harry raised his anguished green eyes to hers, the truth clear.

"Of course not, Hermione. I found out when you told me. I've been trying to keep you safe and happy. After everything we've been through together, I just want you to have a good life-"

"-And how could you? With a man who thinks of you as nothing more than a prize?" Ron hissed, his vengeful eyes never leaving his enemy's.

"How Draco feels about me has nothing to do with it," she felt her temper rising to dangerous degrees.

"You're blind when it comes to him," Harry continued softly, as if they didn't interrupt him. "It's always been that way Hermione, no matter how awful he was, you gave him the benefit of the doubt."

She could see Draco shift uncomfortably from the corner of her eye.

"Exactly," Ron retorted. "You obviously couldn't leave him on your own. So I made a choice for you, a better one."

"You didn't trust me to look out for myself. You didn't believe that I could make my own decisions. Like I needed you to guide me? You almost killed him! What the hell were you thinking?!" she roared.

Ron opened his mouth to come back at her but it was Harry who cut him off this time, speaking in a low voice.

"Apparently we don't think when it comes to you, Hermione. We just…" he paused, searching for the right words.

"Feel," Draco seethed with venom. "You just _feel_. But you can't have it all, Potter," he hissed as he turned to Hermione. "So let me tell you exactly what else he feels. Last night the Minister and I attempted to crash your rehearsal dinner so we could avoid this entire mess and take Weasley away after you departed. And you know what we found instead? The Chosen One, your beloved fiancé, spilling his guts to Weaselette. _Begging_ her to take him back."

Hermione felt the ground shift beneath her as she swung her gaze to Harry's. The flush on his face drained almost instantly, he looked as if he were going to be sick.

Hermione turned to Ginny who was staring opened mouthed with horror.

"Yes," Draco continued on with a vindictive sort of glee. "He was telling her he'd call the whole thing off, run away with her. He couldn't _stand_ the sight of her in my arms," Draco's smirk was gloating. "And she turned him down. Hence why he's prepared to make the same mistake as you, Granger. Marry his second choice."

Hermione looked between them, speechless.

She didn't need to ask anymore questions, everything Draco accused Harry of was clear in the Savior's eyes. As well as Ginny's.

She couldn't take anymore: Harry's secrets, Draco's triumph, Ron's accusatory stare and insane actions, the whispering and the muttering from the captivated audience. It was all twisting into her like the sharpest of knives, their words coating her in blood and doubts.

She was done.

Hermione stepped up to Harry and placed the engagement ring in his hand. He stared at her with longing and grief. She could not force her mouth to move, her face no longer seemed to be capable of anymore emotion or expression.

A hush fell over the crowd just as a deafening clap of thunder exploded through the sky and the heavens opened their gates of fury. Rain began to pour down in torrents, soaking them all within seconds. Hermione could barely feel it against her icy skin and numb heart.

With one last glance at Ron and Draco, wands still drawn, both staring at her, Hermione turned, head held high, and made her way slowly back down the aisle.

She hadn't taken three steps when Kingsley gave the motion to go ahead with the arrest.

There was a shout- a collective gasp.

Hermione didn't turn around.

CRACK!

The screams from the people around her were enough for her to know, that she could not look back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Good Evening Readers!**

**Thank you all so much for the love!**

**Reviewers: rabradley09-Thank you for your wonderful reviews, SlyTwiHunter- Thank you thank you! Hope I shock you a bit ;) appreciate all of your wonderful reviews, really made writing this in a timely fashion a lot easier, AmethystRoseMalfoy- I wrote Ginny a little indecisive and immature, logically yes, her reasoning is flawed, but I hoped to convey that she was torn in terms of 'letting go of the first person you love, even if you don't want to commit to them.' I'll admit, I wrote her pretty selfish. Hope that clears up any confusion- sorry about that!, sayianhund- I'm sorry you were disappointed with the results, maybe you'll like my HR/R fics better :) Either way thank you for reading!, LadyinRed- Thanks so much! Glad I surprised you :), & Guests- Thank you!) APPRECIATE YOU ALL! **

**It was a treat to write this and take a journey with you. ****Here is the last chapter...hope I did it justice!**

**Enjoy,**

**M. x**

The papers hadn't even referred to it as a 'wedding' in the end. Which Hermione, if she had been aware of this notion, would have agreed with whole heartedly.

But she didn't know, for she hadn't read one single thing about the event she was now referring to, inside of her head, as "the disaster."

No. She was blissfully unaware, though that term didn't seem to apply considering how un-blissful her current state was.

She was going stir-crazy.

It had been six weeks since she entered lockdown.

Hermione chose to remain inside of her house at all times and away from the rest of the world. She couldn't face it. _Them_. Any of it.

So she worked from home and unsubscribed to all news outlets, made her address un-plottable and burned every single letter she received.

Except the first two, that came not hours after the disgrace of what could also be called the 'End of her Rope.' In all the years of pressure and chaos she'd experienced, nothing came close to walking back down that aisle while people screamed and shrieked all around her.

She felt her insides writhe with humiliation and horror every time she replayed the sickness of it all in her head. No. She was better here, alone.

The first letter she opened was rather long.

**Hermione,**

**I don't even know where to begin.**

**Words can't describe the feelings I am experiencing-but as I'm sure you can imagine they are raw. I was deceitful, clueless...I'm shocked and most importantly, I am so incredibly sorry.**

** Ron...I don't know what to say. I'll spare you the details, but after what he's pulled- I don't think even _I _could help him out of this. Not that I want to...what he did to Malfoy was... I'm sickened, to be honest. **

**Malfoy and I spoke after you left...I'm sure you'll see it in the papers tomorrow. Let's just say we had a much needed conversation- I gained some insight. **

**And Ginny, I'd say it was a moment of weakness but I can't lie to you again. I thought I was past it. **

**Again, there are not enough quills in Britain to write how sorry I am. **

**In the end, all I want is for you to be happy. **

**I'm taking an extended holiday, I won't bother you again. If you need me or when you're ready to talk or let me beg for your forgiveness or properly hex me, you can use this. **

**Harry**

A gold coin, one she thought lost long ago when she belonged to Dumbledore's army, slid out of the envelope and into her hand. Hermione stared at it, feeling emotions bubble inside of her, she hadn't cried a single tear, but now...she could feel it all closing in on her. She immediately shoved the coin back in with the scrap of paper and slid it between two books on the bottom of her shelf. She took a deep breath. Harry would be okay. They would be okay... eventually. She knew this deep in her heart. No matter what they went through, there was nothing he could do that would convince her to turn her back on him. And that was because he was nothing like Ron. _His_ name made her sick all over again. She focused on keeping her head cool and turned away from her dark thoughts.

Her eyes fell to the second envelope.

The letter was short, but it said so much more.

_**Yours.**_

And with it, the impossible ring that she thought she'd never get off landed gently in her palm.

He was giving it to her.

He was letting her know she was her self.

She could make her own damn decisions.

She needed time yes, but he was hers, he was here-when and if, she wanted him.

That's what '_Yours'_ really said.

Hermione kept this letter under her pillow. It became a sort of comfort to her during the lonely nights, seeing as the most restful sleep she ever experienced was on Draco's chest.

But she wasn't ready, she couldn't face him yet. Not after the guilt and shame that she now associated with Ron's reckless and mind-numbing deeds.

She needed time by herself. Time to heal.

So both letters went unanswered.

Vicky sent all her work via floo and sometimes stayed for dinner. Luna also dropped by once or twice a week. Both were careful to avoid any talk about what happened after Luna mentioned she was dating Blaise Zabini who she met at the wedding. It was an immediate reaction, suddenly Hermione was allergic to company and shooed them both from her place and didn't answer her floo for three days.

Everyone else, she had no interest in.

Hermione spent a lot of time reflecting, looking inward and concentrating on her own self-awareness, not blaming but recognizing the role she played in all of this. Her own bad judgment, the secrets she kept…all of them played their parts. And reaped what they sowed.

While Hermione stayed hidden away, the world around her went on- spreading news of what actually happened at "The Wedding Massacre Showdown", as _Witch Weekly_ so eloquently referred to it as.

Some believed Draco deserved his fate-that Ron was in the right to rid their community of a defected Death Eater and traitor- and went so far as to say it publicly.

Others demanded Ron pay severely for his crimes, calling on the Ministry to punish him.

Both sides were rabid with the need to see their own versions of justice played out.

There were protests and media frenzies and speculation around every magical corner one turned.

Hermione neither knew nor cared that any of this was happening. She refused to acknowledge that it was even taking place. She had not forgiven anyone, especially not herself.

She wasn't sure if she ever would. They had all lied to each other, over and over again.

How had it gotten this far?

Hermione could only imagine what the Wizarding World was saying in regards to her secret romance with an ex Death Eater—the lengths she'd driven Ron to, because of her deep betrayal. Harry's heartbreak, causing him to flee London. They were probably calling for her execution. Or worse, painting the whole thing into a sickly sweet portrayal of some forbidden love doomed to fail, making it that much more grotesquely attractive to vultures like Rita Skeeter.

Hermione was however, absolutely positive, they were most definitely blaming the woman.

But six weeks of imagining the worst was starting to wear on her nerves.

She was done with it now, she was over it. She was moving on, she _had_ to move on. She was more resilient than this.

But the temptation to remain alone and unbothered for the rest of her life was also unequivocally strong.

It was with that thought that her fireplace roared to life and a frantic, disheveled Vicky came stumbling out.

Before Hermione could even open her mouth, Vicky was rattling on.

"Blaise Zabini just showed up at the office and he is demanding to see you, he said it's extremely important and he won't leave," Vicky stammered, her hands desperately attempting to fix her hair.

Hermione felt her heart lurch. Why would Zabini need to see her? Something must have happened to Draco.

Without hesitation, she went with her gut.

"Let him in," she said, nodding her thanks to Vicky, who returned the gesture and disappeared in a swirl of green.

Hermione didn't bother to straighten up her chaotic library. Instead she got to her feet, and began to pace.

Zabini came through moments later wearing a spectacularly cut and crisply expensive tux.

"What is it? What's happened?" she bit out immediately, steeling herself for the blow that would finally do her in.

Blaise watched her for a moment, his keen eyes reading her emotions very carefully. Obviously satisfied with what he saw, his face turned up into a dashing smile.

"In your _esteemed_ opinion, should I go with the black bowtie or the red? It's opening night of La Bohème and I want to look absolutely _perfect _for Luna."

Hermione stared at him in utter disbelief as her constricted chest loosened with relief.

"You're not serious."

He pulled his hands from behind his back to reveal two bowties. He held one in front of him at a time, posing for Hermione.

She drew her wand.

"Do we want to do this again, Zabini?"

He dropped the bowties and held up his hands in surrender before he gave her a spectacular eye roll.

"Oh alright, _fine_. But can I at least have a drink while I tell you the purpose of my visit?" he inquired politely, his gaze fixed to her wand.

"Why should I listen to you?" she snapped, lowering her wand.

Now that she knew Draco was in no immediate danger, she felt her ire return in full force. She might as well take it out on Zabini.

"Well seeing as you've become more reclusive than an acromantula, you should be listening to _someone_. And that _someone_ should be a reliable source," he quipped easily, striding forward.

She raised an eyebrow and begrudgingly offered him a seat. Pompous git sat like he was on a throne.

"And don't tell me that's you?" she mocked, splashing some whiskey in a glass and pressing it into his hand rather roughly.

"You can't tell me you aren't the least bit curious about what's going on in the _real_ world." he teased with glint in his eye.

"Slander and lies, gossip and harassment—half-truths? No thank you, I'll pass," she insisted, crossing her arms and scowling at him.

"That's been your problem from the start Granger, you assume," he informed her as he took a sip of his drink.

"That doesn't mean I'm not right."

"Another problem of yours, admitting you're wrong," he chastised, wagging his finger.

Hermione glared at him until he shrank back in his seat.

"I didn't ask you to comment on my faults, Blaise. I'm perfectly capable of figuring those out on my own," she snarled.

He paused, taking in her fierce gaze and defensive stance.

"You're a remarkable woman, Granger."

She snorted at him with disdain.

"Pathetic." Was she talking to herself?

Blaise huffed under his breath before becoming serious.

"There are two sides to every story. There is what you think you know and what has actually happened. Can I divulge you with a little information?"

"Why?"

"Because I find it relevant."

"If it gets you out of here sooner, then go right ahead." Hermione smiled at him with no humor as she took the seat behind her desk and watched him carefully.

"Do you know what darling Draco has been doing since you went underground?" Blaise started casually.

She felt her heart skip a beat at the sound of his name. She hadn't said it out loud since before the wedding.

Hermione continued to stare at Blaise, waiting for a response.

"He's out there, volunteering for the _house elves_. Every Tuesday and Thursday night. We can't even play poker anymore. He's not been drinking nearly enough booze for my satisfaction and he hasn't gone on one single date- though women are _throwing_ themselves at him in hoards. He has spent countless hours being hounded by the press- over and over again he defends your honour, takes the blame and protects you against all who attempt to slander you. He broke Skeeter's quill in half at a press conference and went as far as to get her fired from _The Prophet_—which, by the way, has turned into a nasty lawsuit," he took a large breath. "And on top of that, he asked that the Ministry to lessen Weasley's sentence in Azkaban, even after the nasty prick tried to curse him the moment he turned his back at that _joke _of a wedding. And do you know that he only lowered his defenses because _you_ were walking away?" Blaise paused for a grim smirk as he took in her shock. "_For you_ Granger, all for bloody _you_."

"I don't believe you," she whispered, feeling emotions explode and rain down on her like fiendfyre.

"Fine. Don't. You think I care? Personally,_ I_ think he's gone insane. But you've always had that affect on him, no?" Blaise got to his feet and placed his empty glass on her cluttered desk. "My advice Granger, is to stop moping around like a mess and find out for yourself. Besides, there's been plenty to write about since your abrupt _trip _down the aisle," he grinned as Hermione raised a brow in curiosity. "Weaslette's gone and gotten herself pregnant and no one knows who the father is…I'm told they are conducting paternity tests all over the island."

He waved with a ta-ta and left her alone.

"Enjoy the opera!" she yelled after him with furious disbelief.

Hermione immediately jumped to her feet, alerting Vicky that she would need her to come back and verify all the unimaginable things Zabini just spouted off.

Hermione hated being proved wrong.

But there it was, Vicky was more than happy to fill her in- which she'd been expecting the woman wanted to do all along. But two sources were not enough, so she called Luna who stopped by the following afternoon to confirm the story.

She turned to the papers. Article after article...

_Malfoy tries to Woo Granger out of Hiding, Malfoy and Granger: Destined?, Draco Malfoy, A New Man. Potter & Malfoy: A Truce?_

Hermione's eyes glued themselves to a moving picture of Harry and Draco. Their backs were to the camera as they stood gazing out over the Black Lake.

She looked closer-she could see they were talking and then...Hermione gasped. They shook hands, both stepping out of the frame moments later.

Her eyes dropped to the article below- she scanned, jumping over the long, embarrassing details until she got to the part she was looking for.

_...As the bride made her humiliating walk back down an empty aisle, Draco Malfoy attempted to go after her. What happened next will stay in our memories for quite some time. As soon as Malfoy's back was to the alter, and before our inept law enforcers were able to subdue the accused-Ronald Weasley aimed a curse at Mr. Malfoy's back. Harry Potter deflected the spell and stunned his best friend before he was taken away by The Minister himself. The picture above was snapped shortly after. Whether or not Hermione Granger is aware of this- remains __unknown. __No one has heard from Miss Granger..._

The paper fell from her hands in a stupor. There she was-surrounded by over fifty articles and the hidden smiles of Vicky and Luna who were sorely attempting to stay neutral.

Hermione let out a deep breath, feeling a light tingling around her heart.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped, raising her eyes to the two women.

"I think it's romantic," Luna declared as Vicky shot her a look of shock.

Hermione glowered at them, trying to gauge their reactions.

"All of this for me?" she asked with speculation.

Luna nodded with determination as Vicky gave a small, fearful nod, not wishing to set Hermione off.

She sighed as she got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" they asked at the same time with uncontainable excitement.

Hermione ignored them as her pulse began to race, a gleam of hope just cresting her eyes.

* * *

She apparated to the top step of 'Wuthering Heights' and knocked three times.

Hermione waited, feeling nervous energy course through her system. If she was going to rejoin society, she would have to start here. With him.

She knocked again. Minutes went by. Nothing.

Feeling a slight surge of irritation, Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

She gazed around the dimly lit foyer. It was empty.

It was remarkably silent, except for the distant crashing of the waves. Another time, she would have stopped to listen. She would have let it sooth her soul.

But not now. Right now she needed one thing.

* * *

His back was facing her. He leaned against the massive balcony, his gaze turned towards the sea. It was cold tonight, yet he looked unaffected, unmoving and frozen in time.

Hermione carefully pushed open the doors and made her way out to him. She wasn't sure if he could hear her footsteps over the relentless pounding of the sea.

"Draco," she called softly when she was only a few feet behind him. She watched as his shoulders tensed, but he did not turn around or acknowledge her. "Draco," she tried again, a little louder.

"Sh!" he commanded. She frowned ready to give him a piece of her mind but then he spoke. "Not again. Please don't torture me like this," his voice dropped low, it was filled with anguish. "I know you won't be here when I turn around. I know you're not real."

And then she understood.

He was losing his mind without her as she'd secretly been doing without him. As much as she tried to forget, whenever she laid down at night, he was with her.

She reached out and placed a hand against his back.

He moved so quickly she lost her balance. Hermione took several steps back to regain her footing and when she looked up, she almost lost it again.

He was staring at her with hard eyes and suspicion, his handsome visage glowing in the moonlight. She watched as he took a step back into the shadows and shook his head.

His face was granite-she could not tell what he was thinking in the slightest.

She took a step forward.

They stared at one another.

"You," he breathed in barely a whisper.

"Me," she confirmed, suddenly feeling lost and unsure.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, tension laced in his tone.

"I..." For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger did not have an answer to the question.

"Well?" he prompted, watching as she looked around for an answer. She folded her hands together, nervously twining her fingers. "Is this about the ring? You've come to give it back, no doubt."

Hermione looked up quickly in surprise. His frown was severe, but at least he looked more like Draco. Before she could form a sentence, he nodded to himself in confirmation and strode past her, his body filled with rigidity.

"I don't want it back. Keep it, sell it. I could give a shit-" he slandered her with his frosty words.

"Malfoy!" She was already going after him. She reached for his arm but she shrugged her off. "Do you always have to be so intolerable!?" she yelled after him.

He stopped. She waited.

It was moments before he turned slowly, surveying her with cool disdain.

"What's left to say, Granger?"

"What happened with you and Harry?" she called out, watching as his features grow even darker.

"So_ that's_ why you graced me with your presence this evening. Come to hear another grand story about your beloved Chosen One? How he saved my life? A little aphrodisiac before you two run off together into the sunset..._ again_?" he taunted with a nasty sneer.

Hermione felt her blood boil with fury.

"How dare you!"

"No Granger, how dare _you_! You come here to throw this shit back in my face. To tell me how I ruined your wedding- your happy, pathetic, little bubble!" he snarled with painful contempt.

"Well we both know how much you enjoyed it. You love seeing me suffer!" she accused, stalking up to him.

"Do I?" he drawled, his jaw tightening, his fists clenching as she approached him.

"Yes," she hissed. "I did not come here for any more of it."

"Any more of what?"

"Your bullshit, Malfoy! I want to know what happened with you and Harry because if the papers and everyone else I have consulted with are telling the truth, then you went and did the one thing I asked you to do. The _one_ thing,"

"So what if I did?" he asked defensively, crossing his arms and glaring down at her.

"Then I want to _thank you_, you impossible snob." Hermione felt the fight go out of her as his lips quirked up in amusement.

"Is that all then?"

"I'd hear it from you," she insisted.

He sighed with annoyance before striding back across the balcony to stare out at the sea. Hermione followed him, leaning against the railing so she could study his face.

"I forgot how much you enjoy jumping to conclusions," she chastised with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

"Only when you don't provide sufficient answers," he quipped back.

They paused, staring at one another as if the world were forgotten. Memories of lying in her bed on a Sunday morning, snapping sharp witty banter back and forth, materialised in their minds.

Hermione almost smiled, but instead she brought him back to reality.

"So you and Harry," she began.

He threw her a snarl for ruining their moment. Just for good measure.

"I thanked him, though it almost killed me to do so. He apologized like the perfect gentleman he is. We shook hands."

"That's it?" she pressed.

Draco's disdain was evident.

"He disapproves of me. Of _us_. I told him to piss off. And...if I ever hurt you again I'd let him do the honours of beating me bloody."

"You didn't."

"I wish I didn't. But that's what you do to me. You make me a fucking idiot," he snapped with a glare.

"And you make me a rabid shrew," she added with a growl.

He smirked at her.

"My favourite kind of Granger."

"He just wants me to be happy," she reminded Draco, as any trace of humour left his face.

"And _are you_? Hiding away like a cowardly Slytherin?"

Hermione felt her temper rise.

"I needed time."

"Six weeks-"

She gave him a death glare that stopped him in his tracks. He grumbled under his breath as he regarded her with wary eyes.

"So what now?" he drawled impatiently, looking over her head as if he had somewhere else to be. But Hermione knew him better than that, she could see the stress and worry in the tightening of his jaw.

"I have questions," she began, feeling her heart once again pick up speed.

"Of course you bloody do."

"What spell did Ron try to use on you?" She might as well start with the worst.

"Crucio," his tone was void of emotion.

Hermione felt terror race through her soul.

"Why did you appeal for him?"

"He wouldn't last that long in Azkaban. And I knew it would upset you," he murmured, still refusing to meet her gaze.

Hermione swallowed hard, imagining how hard that must of been for him to do. She changed the subject quickly, not liking the obsidian depths of his icy eyes.

"What is this I hear about house elves?" she asked with suspicion.

She watched as his shoulders relaxed a bit and he gave her an exasperated look.

"They drive me insane, Granger. I don't know how you do it every day. But I swear, it's giving me patience I never knew I had."

"And Skeeter?" she continued, feeling her own anxiety begin to ebb away. The storm was receding inside of her.

"That malicious gnat. I can't wait to bury her in court," he seethed with the excitement of a challenge.

"And the other women?" she raised an eyebrow, taking a step back.

He stepped forward, laying his hand over his heart, his eyes turning wickedly pleased at her sore expression.

"I send them all to Zabini and _Lovegood,_" he vowed before throwing her a suggestive look.

She forced her lips together, trying not to smile. She looked around them at the beautiful night.

"And just exactly how did you afford his house?"

He broke out into a genuine smile and Hermione felt her breath catch. He was so beautiful when unburdened.

"I didn't."

"How?" she insisted, stepping closer to him.

"Granger, this house has been in my family for years. It wasn't liquidated with the rest of the Malfoy fortune because the deed was under Andromeda's name. She gave it to me after I told her about us," he clarified.

"What?" Just how many people did he tell? The smile grew a little wider as she realized how wonderful it was that he was on speaking terms with his only sane family member.

"Yes. Right before I left to find Bellatrix, the title was signed over...to you, actually," he stated rather casually.

"To me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise. A gift for you. A wedding present when the time came, I guess," he added flippantly, gauging her reaction to his words. "That's when I had the ring made."

Hermione balked at him. "You _guess?_"

He threw her an arrogant smirk,

"How else would you be able to walk right in the front door?"

"Draco, I can't-" she protested.

"-But you will. It's yours," At the sound of 'yours' Hermione was hit with the magnitude of what he was giving her. He took her silence as regret. "If you want me out just tell me now."

She watched as a cold frost once again descended on his gaze.

"You know I don't want that," she whispered, reaching out to touch his hand.

Her skin against his had a remarkable effect. Draco's features shifted from grim to curious in a matter of seconds.

"Ah, we have finally arrived at the reason for your visit," he murmured, his body only inches from her now.

"Have we?" she whispered, feeling electricity and magic fly between them.

"Any other questions?" he murmured softly, his eyes memorizing each feature of her face.

Hermione felt herself sink into his embrace at the same time his arms reached out to hold her.

Draco gazed at her as if he were looking into heaven. A wicked heaven. One where redemption for a soul as shattered as his might be possible.

"Did you wait for me?" she whispered, echoing his words back to him from all those years before.

She felt his arms tighten as he lowered his lips to hers.

There was no need for words, nothing mattered except the intense pull drawing her soft heat into his cold hardness. Their mouths met and fire sparked in their veins- the desire to be as close as possible not nearly enough. He bled his heart out through his body and into hers.

He promised, with his arms, that he would never let go- with his lips, he swore to worship her. And when they finally pulled apart for air, his eyes reminded her of why she fell in love with him in the first place.

"You've come back to me?" he asked quietly, almost unsure that this was all actually happening.

She didn't believe she had ever heard him sound more vulnerable in all the years she knew him.

"If you'll have me," she replied as she reached around her neck and pulled on a silver chain to expose the ring.

Their ring.

He paused, watching her, waiting to see a hint of hesitation.

But there was none. She was giving herself to him fully, finally-she was all in.

Draco Malfoy felt his chest burn with the uncontrollable need to love her even more.

"Today. And tomorrow. And every day after that, until our ashes are scattered together amongst these waves," he promised harshly with passion, sweeping her up into his arms. "But most importantly, I will have you right now."

Hermione felt her heart swell. She would no longer have to dream. By some wild circumstance, she found the man who she would never let go, not ever again.

"You, Draco Malfoy, are my love."

Her words could not have meant more to him, so much so, that he could not speak for several moments. Draco settled on claiming her lips once again, his eyes burning with the emotion of utter completion.

"Welcome home, Hermione."

**Woo! That's it! Thank you all!**

**Until we meet again! Thank you for being fabulous readers.**

**M. x**


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